Army of a god
by TGATL
Summary: A certain human is betrayed and learns as a consequence of his unholy heritage. His ambitions could prove fatal for the races of Azeroth in face of the cataclysm.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there, this will be my first fanfic R&R if you so desire.**

**This story contains violence, death and implied sex! beware!**

**I do not own the warcraft franchise or any material associated with it.**

**I am in no way associated with Blizzard Entertainment.**

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The young man looked upon the ashes of his former home. Years had gone by since he left it.

The uper floors were gone, had fallen victim to the ferocious fire, he himself laid before leaving.

The only thing left now were some parts of the broken exterior walls, scorched tables and black timber piling. He had a smile on his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. Taking a few steps inside, he kicked up a pile of ash, which gushed upwards forming a neat wooden chair, untainted compared to the devasted timber around it. He sat down and gazed upward into the night. Half a dozen airships hovered in the distance. They were escorted by a second Skybreaker and several dwarfen planes.

King Varian Wrynn had learned of the effectivness of such vehicles for transporting war machinery and was without a doubt planning on using them to bolster his assault force on the twilight hammer clan's Bastion. A smile curled upon the mans face, just as one of the airship's ballons burst into flames. The wooden ship came tumbling downwards to the ground and crashed in the woods below.

„Fitting coffin" he murmured to himself as he saw the rest of the airships ballons explode, and their crews falling to their inevitable deaths.

While he was still fixated on the distant glow, a dark skinned highelfen girl in scarlet garb approached him. Only relucantly he broke contact to the inferno and regarded her with tired eyes.

„Are you sure you don't regret not warning them?" She inquired to break the silence between them.

„Of course not, these few dozen lifes, along the resources are a mild prize to pay, compared to the sheer terror Wrynn will feel, having been sabotaged so successfully. He is too paranoid to trust someone as contradictory as me. The events of tonight however, might put a dent in his usual pridefull demeanor, hopefully enough for me to coax him into cooperation". The Elf regarded him sceptically before asking „You are not seriousy considering to work together with either the Alliance or the Horde are you?"

He glanced at her dismissivly before he explained with a patient tone „I merely want them to stay out of my way, that's why I have to inform them of my operations beforehand, that way mortals won't get themselves caught in the crossfire by mistake".

„What about the Dragons?" She pressed further „Surely they will try to detain you as soon as they realize what you are, the Aspects themselves might get involved on some level". He didn't even flinch at the idea and spoke „They are far to busy worrying about their little pet Orc after Staghelm scattered his essence througout Azeroth."

He wanted to go on but he felt arcane energies forming a body nearby. A Hulking creature, hunched over, with giant plates protecting it's shoulders and two malforment claws peering from underneath it's richly ornamented robes approached them. As it drew nearer, the elf observed four pairs of hairy limbs on which it glid towards the human. „Your Majesty, the Soldiers await your Order to proceed towards Stormwind. The Anubisath are operational aswell". Agitated the Elf went past the human whispering „I trust you, but not these abominations that you command" before she vanished into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello there, this will be my first fanfic R&R if you so desire.**

**This story contains violence, death and implied sex! beware!**

**I do not own the warcraft franchise or any material associated with it.**

**I am in no way associated with Blizzard Entertainment.**

_Three Years Earlier_

The seventeen year old loped without a care through Stormwinds districts and enjoyed the mix of idle talk he was subjected to as he travelled the lively streets. Old Town was Roy Olmsteads destination and as the cathedral's bells began to ring, he picked up pace. Lavina was probably already waiting for him he thought embarassed to himself.

Lavina could feel the small rune pulsing in her pocket, she didn't even need to look at it to know what it would say. She knew what she was about to do would be unforgivable, but necessary.

Roy jumped the few steps leading to Lavina's family home, opened the unlocked door and let himself in. The house was a small building, rather discomforting for a family to live in, since her's was gone however it was the least of her worries. Instead of leaving the entrance in the direction of the kitchen Roy went upstairs. He came by a few paintings depicting the once thriving clan and continued upwards. Roy thought it strange that he made it up without Lavina noticing, usually she was rather perceptive of what happend inside her house, not minding it however he had already decided on how to take advantage. He sneaked through the corridor until he ended up in front of her room, and listened. Nothing seemed to move, which made him doubt she was actually in there, so he pushed the door open silently – or so he thought. Door hinges creaking he stumbled in, embarassed by his failure to startle the occupant of said room. The shame was short lived however when he noticed Lavina's form. She stood in front of a window, through which the afternoon sun highlighted her meek and slender features which were all to well visible because of the almost translucent fabric of her white robes. Another form of shame had taken the place of the former, shame for the childish prank he was so eager to play on her just moments ago. Instead of wavering however he relished the sight of her pale skin, the ashern black curly hair and seductive auburn eyes. Lavina reached for the window handle behind her and without breaking her alluring gaze on him opened it. A soft breeze entered the room, and played with her robes and hair alike. Roy was mesmerized by the girl with whom he had spend the past months and spared no time while he took greedy steps towards her. Too greedy as it would turn out. Too distracted to realize the subtle magic that was at work here to lure him in, too careless to detect the small curved dagger underneath the attire of his object of obsession. Still drunken from Lavina's inviting, innocent smile he embraced her but lingered his lips a hand width from her neck. A mellow sting in his chest, dispelled the charming magic that had tricked his senses. He looked down and saw the hilt of a curved blade protruding from his body. Suddenly a wave of pain echoed through his entire body, paraliyzing him. With horror he identified Lavina's hand on the hilt and raised his head to look into her face. Her warm, loving smile had given way to a thin line across her face, cold, calculating eyes fixed upon him. „wha-" he began, but she jerked the knife out of him, splattering blood from it's edge inside her room. _His_ blood poured from him onto the floor, forming a little puddle. His body shook from the viciousness in her movement, then toppled over as she dug the weapon once again into his flesh. He lay now on the floor writhing in agony, as the knife entered his body, again and again. Red fluid dripped from his lips, his eyelids were half closed now, only barely fighting the tiredness that had befallen them. The more blood poured from his wounds the colder he fellt, death embraced him. The horror of the moment was only matched by it's incomprehensability. He could see the tender moments he had spent with Lavina fly by his inner eye, surely this couldn't be real he must be having a nightmare.

As the onslaught of jabs subsided, his eyesight returned to some degree. Roy could make out Lavina from the blur in his vision. She no longer faced him, but a figure, a male in purple colored robes.

„Splendid" he exclaimed. „You have now offically become part of the cult" his deep satisified voice

echoed through the room. Roy, still trying to make sense of the situation formed words with his mouth, but was unable to speak. The man in purple saw Roy's failed attempt to talk, and as if to

answer his question grabbed Lavina's chin, caressed it with his tongue, before turning his attention to her mouth. She didn't resist as he entered her greedily with his tongue, instead started to moan of her own accord. The man kept a stern watch on Roy, teasing the half dead boy with glee.

Lavina pushed herself against her companion as he grabbed her hips, ignoring Roy dying behind her completely. Roy no longer felt agony, chill or even fear. His eyes were studying the both of them with detached animosity as his body finally broke down.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello there, this will be my first fanfic R&R if you so desire.**

**This story contains violence, death and implied sex! beware!**

**I do not own the warcraft franchise or any material associated with it.**

**I am in no way associated with Blizzard Entertainment.**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Stormwind – Now**

„Halt!" A handfull of guards gathered around their Commanding officer, as he yelled the order towards an advancing delegation. Misshapen creatures, akin to humanoid insects of gargantuan size marched the stony pathway leading up to Stormwinds entrance gate. The Guards counted atleast two dozen, spearheaded by a small humanoid figure, clad in a black mantle. Weapons were raised, when the intruders continued forward, disregarding the order to stop.

„My name is Roth, I demand entrance" The figure in black began „One of you shall hurry to the King, so he can welcome me condignly" The Guards looked at each other bemused, a madman demanding an audience with his highness was nothing out of the ordinary. Being followed by a horde of suspicious monstrosities was however. As their Commander nodded in agreement, their bafflement was complete. „Jackobs, move your lousy ass and do as the man says!" He shouted.

Peevish one of the guards spurted of into the city, leaving the rest of them with their commander who had a strangely moony gaze.

Roth stepped into the „Valley of heroes", his entourage following in lockstep.

He could feel the ley line pattern woven around the city, which created the sudden qualls that were responsible for it's name. Delighted he moved onwards into the last great human bastion on Azeroth.

„ A human commanding Insects seeks an audience with me?" King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind wondered aloud, mildly intrigued. „_Giant_ Insects my Lord..." Jackobs began, but was cut of by the crowned man before he could utter anything else. „But _Insects_ nontheless" Wrynn stated.

As the King pondered the notion of allowing someone so insolent to come before him and speak, another messenger appeared, panting and with a horrorfied look on his face.

„Your majesty, please listen!" his voice fell silent for a moment to catch his breath, before continuing „The Airship convoy you send towards Highbank was destroyed!" The entire throne room fell silent. None of the present royal guards or noblemen dared to continue the idle talk they had been engaged in just moments ago. „What was the reason" the King's voice was collected, but demanding, his face calm, showed however clearly that answering his question tolerated no postponement. The Messenger suffered no longer from short breath, yet his voice was barely audible compared to his previous outburst, „unknown" he whispered. Wrynn's expression was unreadable while he thought about the answer he had been given. As if he had reached a conclusion he orderd his men to prepare his horse, he wanted to see the crash site for himself. „Where there any survivors?" He inquired further, but before the daunted messenger could answer somebody beat him to it.

„None, apart from the dwarfen escort pilots and the crew aboard the Skybreaker II, the airships themselves were utterly destroyed in the ensuing inferno" swords were drawn at the uninvited guest suddenly standing in the throne room. A dozen of huge Insectoid creatures pushed themselves between their master and the arsenal of blades.

Varian narrowed his eyes as soon as he realized what they were. _Qiraji. _All of the gladiator caste.

„It would seem you have a traitor among your ranks, King of Stormwind" The Intruder remarked apatheticly.

„Identify yourself" Wrynn demanded, ignoring the previous statement.

Jackobs stepped forward, „Your highness, please pardon my insolence, but I already informed you that the master of these creatures calls himself simply Roth, sire."

The King waved dissmissingly „I am not asking for the fake alias he goes under, but his real name".

Roth himself cleared his throat „What use is there in asking someone going under an alias about his real identity? When would you know that he is telling the truth?"

„I have experience with liars" The King explained. „In that case listen, I have come to announce a nonaggression pact between myself and all mortal factions of Azeroth, unaffiliated with the twilights hammer clan". „Interesting" The King spat impatiently „And what name has the faction you represent exactly?" Roth sighed before he regarded the human King „Again you ask your meaningless questions, I said _myself_. There is no label for my faction because there is no need for one, I employ Qiraji, that should be enough for identification purposes. But since you seem to be of the slow kind I will elaborate further on what a nonaggression pact encompasses. Do not interfere with my army, otherwise you will face dire consequences." Wrynn had never been someone to back down, but he wasn't eager on sacrificieng his people in an unnecessary conflict, for his ego's sake.

„That will entirely depend on your actions" he warned.

„Also, how do I know you have control over them?" he added, nodding towards the two dozen of Qiraji standing across the hall. Roth smirked eerily, finally casting aside his impassive and sinister demeanor before he snapped with his fingers. A Qiraji to his left raised his malformed giant claw to the throat of one of his kin. The one in question didn't flinch or make a sound, indifferent to what was to come. Realizing what was about to transpire Wrynn belowed out loud to stop it, but his orders carried no weight for the Insectoids. The claw closed, but only with much strain by it's owner, then it cracked the exoskeleton of it's victim. Jade body fluids spilled on the floor, as the limb body collapsed. The King averted his gaze in disgust, more over the atrocious act than the aftermath. A savage smile appeared on Roth's face, then he Answered:"Believe me, I am in _complete_ control."


	4. Chapter 4

As Roth exited Stormwind keep, a figure stepped out of the darkness of a nearby building and approached him. „Saxia, have they found anything?" He asked immediately.

„Nothing regarding her so far, to be entirely sure however a more thorough examination of the documents will be necessary" The coffe brown elf told him with a shrug „Your little distraction didn't last as long as you promised". „Yet your mortal servants accomplished my task anyway, I don't see a problem" He stated as he went past her.

_Three Years Earlier_

Roy had fallen into darkness, death had taken him, he could no longer feel, see or hear.

His consciousness was drifting in a vast ocean of oblivion, _nirvana._

He was no longer an individual, an entity, but fragmented. His thoughts no longer made sense, they were incoherent pieces orchestrated in different places at the same time, racing in different directions without chronology, without _purpose. _He didn't wonder, because he didn't understand, and because he didn't wonder he could not care. Time was non existent on this plane, there was no urgency, no memory. So he kept drifting until...

There was a reason. He was here because something had happened, he _thought. _He _wondered_ and _felt _time passing as he did so. His consciousness realined giving his identity from again. There most certainly was a _purpose_, a reason why he was here. Someone had thrown him into the abyss, he didn't know why, but the _why _wasn't important, not yet atleast. Someone was responsible for this and that alone gave him perspective. He would need to find the person in question to understand the _why._

The youngster collected his thoughts, he remembered and he wanted back, back to the world of the living. He was still drifting in a dreamlike state, but his mind was lucid.

He felt a change in his form. He was no longer humanoid, rather a drifting mist of blackness,

almost indistinguishable from the dark oblivion in which his mind was still floating. A shimmer of read pulsed in his shadowy form, tentacles and maws slithered from within the nebular.

His attention was however not focused on his appearance, but on the flashes of memory moving by his timeless spot in this ocean of nothingness.

„Lavina" His voice was alien, unearthly, _terrifying_.

He lived through every moment they had spent together, tortured by every minute of it.

Lost in dark dreams, his reason was torn. His hazy existence grew ever so slightly with each mad thought running through his mind.

How much time had past like this? He couldn't remember, he didn't care. Indifferent he watched himself butchered for the thousand time by the black haired girl with auburn eyes.

Again he saw her together with the stranger in purple, the intimacy they shared despite the half dead boy right next to them.

But this time, it was different.

The Illusion went further, instead of repeating itself.

„Should I dispose of the body?" Lavina asked subserviently reading her dagger, as if eager to dismember Roy as fast as possible. She looked downwards to his corpse, oblivious to the fact that a part of his consciousness remained.

Lavina gazed downward to her victim, she was amazed by her coldbloodedness. She could look into Roy's dead empty eyes without trembling, she had feared she wouldn't have the heart to go through with the plan, but her worries had proven to be unnecessary.

„Don't worry about that, just leave him here" Her companion replied, while heading for the door.

Lavina was dumbfounded „But I live here I need to -" She was cut of before she could finish her sentence. „You won't be staying here, neither as a spy nor as an assasin, there are first some more rituals you'll have to undergo before you can actually start serving the cult". He explained while heading down the stairs. „You have to let go of your former live here" He said turning his face to her halfway down the stairs. She followed him until they were by the entrance door and asked:" How am I going to do that?".


	5. Chapter 5

Lavina paused for a moment, as her companion handed her half dozen torches.

„Your old life is over now, by burning your past, you can be reborn as one of us, reborn in fire" He said gleefully.

The girl nodded and lit one of the torches with a muttered spell.

She took a deep breath.

This was it, she thought. The end. No, rather the beginning. She had been determined as she had decided to go through with this, yet she still wavered a bit. The sudden trace of doubt displeased the cloaked figure in front of her.

Quickly Lavina threw the burning torch inside her home and waited.

She had tossed it under a little footstool, which was located underneath the Mirror in the entrance hallway. She remembered the instances she had stood on it to see her own reflection in it as a child.

The flames licked greedily on the dry wood, but still only expanded slowly.

Lavina forced herself to stop staring and lifted the remaining torches. They lit up fiercly on her command, then she scattered them all across the building.

Roy groaned. He could feel his heart beating frantically and wondered why. As he browsed the room from the floor he couldn't make out anything out of the ordinary. He turned himself on his stomach and gasped. A puddle of blood covered the wooden floor. Roy, still on his knees, stared for a moment at the mess before his memory kicked in. His demeanor changed from shocked to hateful. He glared at the crimson liquid with disdain. „Lavina..." He spat, breathing heavy, with barely contained anger.

Slowly he stood up examining his wounds as he did so. Lavina's dagger had caused severe injuries, fatal ones. While he still regarded his mutilated body, the blood he lost started suddely to swirl.

It moved on it's on, slowly dripping upwards, creating thin streams of crimson as it reentered him.

Even the blood which drenched his clothes dissappeared into him.

After the backwards flow of blood had subsided, the wounds magicly closed themselves, leaving the holes in his shirt as the only indicators of what had happend.

With long leaps he closed the distance between himself and the door, leading downstairs.

As his feet touched the highest step, his eyes picked up movement. Flames. Several pieces of furniture downstairs had been set on fire. Judging by their current dispersion, they could only have been laid moments ago. Roy started to move down the flight of stairs.

Suddenly everything slowed down, he could see in detail as each individual fiber of a near by curtain was devoured by the maturing fire, one by one.

Roy felt as though time itself had decided to slack off and flow only with a fraction of it's usual speed.

His head started to get dizzy, he felt as tough someone, some_thing foreign_, _alien_ tried to get inside of him. But he was having none of it. He tried desperately to collect his thoughts. The grib on his mind got stronger by the second. His efforts were in vain. Roy could see visions of grotesque creatures, ancient and malevolent. They Whispered to him of unspeakabel acts, unbelievable horrors and impossible conspiracys. They were corrupting his mind, toying with it. With dread he could see cracks spreading across his skin, they exposed a red glow underneath. A black miasma poured forth from them, which gave him a ominous glow.

His mind slowly realized. They didn't corrupt him, they were merely drawing on what was already there, _inside _him.

By the time Roy regained control over his body, Lavina's home was already ablaze. He forced his body to move, while the flames reached for him. A whirling mix of smoke and fire surrounded him, yet he couldn't feel anything.

The Heat did not scorch his skin, the smoke did not bite his lungs.

Roy's head was still pounding by the mental assault as he stumbled out of the burning building.

He slowly put one foot before the other, while a fresh breeze blew through his hair.

He would chase Lavina, of that he would make damn sure.

Lavina hesitated for a moment and looked back at the smoky formations, blowing small pieces of glint ever higher into the air. She could see the fire was finally catching some attention by Stormwinds inhabitants.

She saw a few guards scurring with buckets of water towards her home, while their superior yelled commands at them.

The girl sighed and saddlep up on her Gryph, before kicking it in the sides, prominting the creature to leap into the night sky.

Roy could see dozens of people now. They bumped into each other, while trying to get a better view of the inferno. Some where trying to help get buckets filled with water, others merely watched their efforts, secretly enjoying the excitement the sudden chaos brought into their dreary lifes.

Nobody cared for him, even though his clothes were scorched and his skin breaking of at various places. If Roy had had a mirror he could have noticed his hair had changed colour. His usuall taupe hair had given way to a silver to slate grey. As if only his hair had aged prematurely and lost it's colour.

Roy burst the wooden door to his home open. He had reached Goldshire in under an hour after leaving the gates of Stormwind behind him. The cracks in his skin had lost their glow and the black miasma had retreated. He also noticed some of the cracks had closed again.

The adolescent let himself fall down on the only chair at the kitchen table, letting his eyes and mind wander.

His home lay in darkness, he could barely make out the the various wooden cabinets or the chimney on the other end of the room, next to a flight of stairs leading to his bedroom on the upperfloor.

The Boy remained like that for a while, before he allowed his mind to try to process what had happened to him.

His life with Lavina felt so distant now, merely a fleeting memory. He thought back, recalled how she and that robed stranger had kissed each other. The unknown man had been in complete control. Lavina had allowed herself to be lead by him. How readily she had accepted him into her mouth. What intimate sounds she had made, as she had pushed herself against him.

Roy grabbed the kitchen table and flipped it over. The piece of furniture fell to the floor with a loud noise.

Roy was standing now, rage pulsing through every fiber of his being. He threw his chair across the room, broke windows and furniture. He didn't feel any pain as his fist crashed into a bookshelf, scattering the lectures all over the place. He felt no remorse as he ripped a painting of his late mother apart.

Now he understood why he had never known his father, why she never wanted to talk about him. Why his mother had killed herself, „The witch! The Whore!" He screamed. With what unearthly monstrosity had she lain, that she had given birth to a freak like him? How could she give life to something so wicked, so unnatural! Exasperated he started shouting, as though the dead could hear him if he raised is voice further,

„You decided to give to birth to me! How dare you kill yourself and leave on your own. Why did you leave the freak behind to guess what horror he is!"

He stormed upstairs and resumed his frenzy. He demolished everything in sight.

After the deed was done helooked at the aftermath. It was still not enough, he tought to himself.

He had never realized how thoroughly he was betrayed by his mother. Her own son had been not enough to stop her. She had not cared enough about him, to leave what had happened with her behind, to give him atleast the illusion of a family. Whatever had happened to make her conceive the bastard son that he was, she had loathed it more than she had loved Roy.

He had been a failure in her eyes. Inept to awaken her motherly instincts. A abomination to be cast aside like heavy luggage.

What made him even more enraged was the fact, that without Lavina's betrayal of his trust he wouldn't even have noticed. Lavina had shattered his whole world in mere moments.

And how easy it had been for her. To deceive him, murder him in coldblood. Roy was shacking violently with Anger. Again cast aside. Without remorse, with unexplicable ease.

The two women that should have been everything for him no longer were the objects of his ire at this point.

It was himself.

His efforts to be loved by them had been for naught. The connection he had felt between them had been superficial. He had thought they gave his existence meaning, that he could validate his right to life through them. Instead he found he was worthless, insignificant for both. He had been a hidrance all along, a nuisance at best.

Therefore his own mother had seen fit to abandon him.

For Lavina, his lover, he had never been more than a means to an end it seems. Whatever she had achieved by toying with him was finished. Tonight she had dropped the act and put an end to him with the kiss of a blade.

There was no reason to pursue the girl that had killed him. It wouldn't make him any wiser.

He was the cause of all this, the problem was him.

There was no reason to continue living after realizing this.

Yet he couldn't die.

There was no salvation for him without his destruction.

Roy Chuckled.

His urge to destroy resurfaced.

In that case, I'll find salvation in the destruction of others, he thought.

Still in that night the boy set his own home ablaze, then vanished into nothingness.


	6. Chapter 6

_Three Years Later_

Roth's aussault had begun. Less than a week had passed since his appearance in stormwind and he had used that time well to deploy his forces. From silithus his forces had come, by water and through the sky. His fleet, consisting of a dozen of ships was headed for the eastern coast of the Twilight Highlands, followed and protected by countless Silithid wasps. They Soared the sky's wildly, and while doing so created a buzzing noise that could drive anyone insane. The ships were crude, standardized constructions. They each had a lean bow of wood, clad in a iron plating. Their overall form was oval however, a wild union of wooden plates of all colour creeds, mold together by generous amounts of propolis, a secrete the silithids use to stabilize their underground tunnels. The ships spanned a total length of a hundred feet. There were no masts or sails on any of them, instead a guardrail wrapped itself around the decks, with small holes carved into it. They hosted great wooden paddles, which served as the only visible means of propolsion. The crew of each ship consisted of sixteen Qiraj Gladiators, who sat in two rows along the guardrails each grabbing a paddle firmly. With powerful strokes the Qiraj had moved their ships across the great sea, around the cape of stranglethorn. They had passed the coast of Loch Modan a night ago and landed now at the dawn of a new day between Dragonmaw Port and The Krazzworks.

„How many do you count?" The Hulking Twilights Hammer Commander Asked, while pronouncing his dominant muscles and perfect limbs with all the arrogance he could muster before his handful of minions. „A dozen Master" A meekly looking acolyte answered, while still examining the invading fleet through his telescope. „Hah" The Commander exclaimed. „There's no way they can hold more than a mid sized battalion" He explained triumphant while snatching his underlings vision aid, to take a peek himself.

Roth was aboard the first ship that made contact with the mainland and jumped down into the water.

He had to wade a few steps through ankle deep water before his feet touched sand. Behind him the rest of the fleet arrived, while their crew hastily left the deck to get onshore. He kneeled down, while his Oiraj servants began to tear away the bows of their respective ships. Underneath an open hatch was revealed, large enough for one of the creatures to crouch through. Without order from Roth they all went inside. When they reemerged they held large clutches of eggs in their arms and started to distribute them at the shore. Roth had begun to draw signs into the sand. They were not particulary complex, his fingers however moved extremely slow, as if with great strain. When he had finally finished, his servants had already emptied all ships. _Thousands_ of great eggs lay before him. They had a slight read taint to them and inside you could at times see little claws squirm about for a second, before they paused again. Roth was still kneeling when he raised his fist into the air. The Gladiators had all stopped moving after finishing their task, instead they studied him now intensly.

„What is he doing?" The Twilight Commander asked his clueless pack of minions with tense worry, while he continiued to observe the peculiar occurence on the shore.

The air around Roth was brimming with magic now. Otherwordly power poured forth from his fist with menacing eager. Then he slammed his fist into the sand carving creating an uproar in the soil surrounding him. Delicate lines of glowing red light formed on the earth. They spread from Roth across the sand, each finding a clutch of eggs. The heavy silence that had lain above the coast since the Qiraj had finished transporting the eggs on shore was gone in an instant. Egg shells were cracking all over. Small claws started to tear through them. The emerging infants had glossy white skin, soft and weak. As the the last Silithid youngling freed itself from it's shell the Qiraj started to chat with oneanother.

Their language was a quick clacking of mandibles, unintelligible for any other species, yet one could feel their words were filled with something akin to pride. Roth was not finished yet however, his fist still buried in the ground he once again brought the air to flare with magic. The immature Silithids began to grow immensly, their bodys took on the familiar red colour, doted with black, while their skin solidified, creating a powerful chitin armour. When all of them were transformed into adulthood, their bodies filled out the entire shore. Roth now stood up and waved with his hand. In unison the gigantic cluster of silithid reavers poured forth, through the valley between Kirthaven and Firebeard's Patrol.

The Twilight Commander was fighting to stay conscious as he saw tenthousand Silithids moving toward his outpost. He guessed they would reach him at noon, the Bastion at dusk.


	7. Chapter 7

As the day neared its end, the silithid reavers had made it to Victor's point and beyond. They had crushed any resistance or outpost easily with their sheer numbers.

Several attempts by the twilight cultists to ambush at keypoints along the way to the Bastion had proved futile and downright insane. The mighty swarm acted as though it was one enormous entity, viciously decimating any resistance with it's claws and poison.

Among it's victims were even a few black drakes, who had had the bravery to aussault the invading force from the skys. They had met their fate swiftly through the paralyzing stings of hundreds of silithid wasps, tasked with the protection of their brethren below. As Roth's army advanced further, he examined the damage they had already caused. Hundreds of corpses, humans, orcs and elves alike, decorated the once beautiful meadows, some stripped to bones by his hungry servants, others untouched except for the dozens of tiny eggs laid within. He would make the twilight highlands another breeding ground - he thought to himself - but first he had to eradicate the weakened opposition.

The silithids arranged themselves several hundred feet away, in a crescent shape around the Bastion.

The Cultists failed attempts to sabotage Roth's advance had forced the scattered forces to unite with the mainforce already stationed there. Here they would make their last stand, to defend the future of the twilight dragonflight. Black and Twilight dragons alike sat atop the Bastion. Their reptilian faces glared down on the huge insects who dared to assault their refuge. The dragon's Eyes glowing with eager to start the inevitable massacre, mirrored the corruption that had grabbed hold of them thousands of years ago perfectly. The ominous whispers that permeated the air orderd them to attack without mercy, to enjoy the frenzied orgy of violence which was about to ensue.

At the frontline of his forces Roth stood tall, examining the Bastion's defenders with a look one might regard a parasite in ones home with. He could see the countless men and women, who had been driven insane or seduced to serve the ancient ones who lay chained beneath this world. They wished for an apocalypse, for which he did not blame them, instead he was disgusted by their subservience with which they carried out their dark masters every wish. They were oblivious to the mass delusion they had been subjected to by others or, even worse, by themselves.

The adolescent man's grim demeanor changed to a slightly amused one. He was going to enjoy this, as much as he could.

A tense silence had overcome the opposing armies. Suddenly footsteps could be heard. Faint at first, but growing louder, ever so slightly. Some of the cultists started to look at each other worriedly. As the sound subsided an enormous shadow appeared at the Bastions Top. Roth, who had waited bored, lifted now his head to look at the bizzare creatures that had graced him with their presence. He could make out an Ettin, watching him with empty eyes, barely showing any intelligence. He was clad in a filthy, spiked metal armor, a red loincloth covering his shame and a malevolent staff in his right hand. Next to him assembled were four humanoid Elementals, who in contrast seemed betrayed not the slightest hint of foolishness. Two immense Dragons had leapt from the platform into the air, and circulated around bickering with one another, while powerful wing beats kept them aloft. Their bodies were cowered in thick Byzantine and purple scales, shimmering with an orange hue, created by the setting sun.

Amidst all of them was a hulking Creature, two headed with mutated eyes covering his skin.

Cho'gall stood proud with his champions, ready to defend the Twilight Hammer's Headquarters.

Cho'gall's right head turned to Roth and studied him intensly. „Beautiful" he finally exclaimed, his eyes still glued to the boy. „We had thought you had been a failure, a fruitless effort by our masters which had left them more exhausted than before, but it seems we have been proven wrong."

Cho'gall or Cho to be precise, had a toothy grin on his face. „Come then Goth'roth, show your fathers your true form, let them celebrate your awakening, and welcome you home as you set them free from the accursed Titan's bondage!" His left head jerked around, yelling incoherent sentences.

„The dead one rises again, he has broken the Cycle! Oh the terrible mirrage, he cannot see, he cannot hear! Unholy star formation, blood is the currency, _F'nakhr_ ugh'r'yheh liung'ngu a'Phtak'lu!

The woods, the bodies are buried there, young mother run, run! It has no mercy, cacophony of screams, squeal, squeal _louder_, The air stinks of sex, ammonia and fish, it is hunting across the raped land! Wasteland! He cannot help, not anymore, The young gods heart is black ice"


	8. Chapter 8

After Gall's sudden outburst all present fell silent. Even Cho seemed shocked by his brothers mad talk.

Magic was gathering, it blurred the air and let the twilight cultists shudder.

Roth's face was obscured by shadow, yet a sinister glow of red was emitted where Cho'gall reckoned his right eye would be.

The Aura around Roth was darkening, as the tension in the air thickend. Slowly his right arm moved toward the mad Ogre magi and his champions. They tensed, preparing for an offensive spell to be flung into their direction.

But, nothing happened. The Ogre took this as a sign that the youth considered his proposition. And who wouldn't? Atleast half of Roth was an Old God, he only appeared human, should he not free the ones who brought him into this world?

A chain of tremendous explosion brought the Citadel to topple. Cho'gall was thrown to the floor, with strain he pushed himself to the edge of the platform. When he peered underneath he caught sight of a most ominous occurence: The massive Citadel Spire was breaking. Huge cracks pierced the structure and the ground itself seemed to be breaking in. A new wave of explosions, flashing at the base of the Spiral made it break down. The magic surge that allowed the platform to levitate died down. Gravity took it's toll. The Gigantic iron spirals fell down on the screaming Twilight cultists underneath, while others were crushed by falling debris as they tried to flee. To avoid the fall Halfus leaped on the back of his protodragon, while Arion called upon the Winds to carry his elemental brothers and the Ogre Magi to safety. The two mighty Twilight Dragons started to circle around the group as they landed on spot beneath which was not covered in rubble. When the Ogre stood again on solid ground he immediately started to examine the ruins, looking for clues as to the cause of the buildings collapse. Was it magic? He peered over to Roth, who was still shrouded in dark energies, which swirled around him like fume.

Somehow he had his doubts he was responsible. He continued to look around. The corpses of his soldiers littered the floor and those who had not been squashed to death were either injured or frantic. He did not despair however, for he could hear the familiar flapping of dragon wings. The black and twilight drakes had made off easily as the Citadel broke. Airborne, they watched him for orders.

Suddenly the earth shook violently, a dozen of tower like bodies broke trough the surface right next the Ogre Magi. As he studied them surprised he realised they were infact gigantic sandworms, with thick red skin as armour, but flexible enough to allow quick movements. Numerous maws with vicious rows of teeth opened, hungry for his flesh.

Slowly Cho'gall realised what had transpired. Explosives had been set up underneath the spiral, with the help of these wretched creatures. Enraged he charged the nearest Worm, fire bursted forth from his Hammer, as he chrushed the Monster, burning it's mangled body. Valiona and Theralion came to his, each mauling a Worm to death and burning another with their twilight flames. Halfus and the Ascened joined the battle bringing down the insect like worms swiftly.

When the last one fell, applause tore through the air. The Ogre Magi and his Champions turned around. Roth strutted idly over to them, looking like the embodiment of indifference, while halfheartedly clapping his hands together. He stopped as soon as everyones attention was focused on him, letting his arms fall down to his sides.

„This foolishness has sealed your fate" Cho'gall stated matter of factly.

„My Masters won't allow such insolence, not even from you"

unimpressed Roth adressed him:"I hope so, otherwise they might misinterpret my intentions.

Either way you are finished, your Masters will be quite distraught with your performance, now that you've lost the Bastion and Sinestra's brood"

Cho'gall tried to hide his nervousness and yelled:"Hah! I might have lost a part of the Clan but the Bastion and Sinestra's brood are still safe and sound. Your imprudent destruction of the Citadel has stopped the shadow surge which was holding the connection to the Bastion open. It is now hidden away in a pocket universe you have no access to, Sinestra merely has to bide her time and reastablish a connection with this world once I have disposed you."

Roth raised an eyebrow, faking surprise.

„It seems you're mistaken on two things"

The Ogre narrowed his four eyes.

„Firstly you won't leave this place alive, and secondly... well look for yourself"

Roth turned slightly and pointed at something behind him.

Was this a trick? Cho'gall tried to make out what the youth was referring to.

Cold sweat ran down his back when he discovered what the boy had meant. Swarms of Roth's silithid moved in on something, like water they were sucked into a Vortex of pure darkness.

The Citadels upper Platform was shattered greatly but the Portal to the Bastion was intact.

Not only that but it was working. Unholy runes along its circular shape brizzled with dark magic, while the gateway it created devoured silithid one by one.

The Shadow magic Roth had called upon was never meant to create an offensive spell, indeed it should power the Portal to allow his forces passage.

Cho'gall was numb with fear. Sinestra was defenseless, except for a bit riff-raff. The insects could already have reached her lair!

With a death threat the Ogre charged the puny hybrid.


	9. Chapter 9

Roth stood perfectly still, while the enormous Humanoid jumped him. Cho'galls grotesque faces distorted into grimaces which would haunt even the most hardened Hero for the rest of their lives.

Balefuly the Ogre brought his Hammer down. With a deafening crash the weapon buried itself in the ground.

An explosion of dust obscured Cho'galls vision.

He cursed.

There had not been so much a hint of resistance when he had hit the boy.

Teleportation? The Ogre magi glanced all around with his two eyepairs but he could not find him anywhere.

He began to get nervous, his opponents absence send cold shivers down his spine.

Then it happened.

A Tentacle, violet and incorporeal twitched through the dust cloud and struck the startled Ogre.

It had moved so fast he almost had not noticed as the Transparent purple had flashed through his body. It had pierced his stomach, then, like a blade moved up to his left head, essentially cutting through his body in a straight line. The pain was unbearable, Cho screamed in agony, while his brother's face flaged. Bewilderment caught Cho as he looked down at his body.

Nothing.

There was no entry wound, no slice, no blood, yet one half of his body was dead!

Vertiginous, the giant creature fell to its knees, regurgitating as he did so.

The shadowy tentacle retracted to its master. When the dust had finally settled completely, Roth stood where he had before, but his form was different. His entire body was transparent, single features could not be clearly defined – his clothes his hair, everything had given way to a dark purple counterpart, immaterial and lucent.

„Die!" Cho gall groaned as he summoned his strength, punching the dark figure.

But his efforts were in vain. When he tried to make contact with his target, his fist merely passed right through. Surprised his eyes widened, but he would not allow himself to be mislead.

„Champions! Attack!"

In the split of a second, Arion, Feludius, Terrastra and Ignacious had surrounded Roth.

Each of them a fully charged elemental spell at hand, they released a deadly volley at the hybrid.

Fire, water, air and earth itself, impacted on oneanother, melting into an explosion of elemental chaos.

The quartet of colour raged only briefly however.

While the elemental energies were still grinding against each other, a flash of arcane ripped them apart.

Roth's dark figure stood unfazed, in battle stance, he pushed his right arm in a horizontal circular movement to his right, sweeping the Councils attack aside. His eyes where now visible as glowing white spheres, while arcane currents flashed trough the air around him.

The white glow contrasted impressively with his own dark, translucent appearance, the Ascendants had however no time to admire him for long, since four, almost arm-thick tentacles shot forward. Each of them pierced one of the four elemental hybrids, extingushing their lifes in an instant.

With a shrill Scream the two dragons descended on Roth. Purple glints between their teeth betrayed their intentions to his eyes. He summoned an arcane shield, by clapping his hands together in concentration. A second later Valionas twilight flames engulfed his shield, while Theralions Shadow blast battered against it. The two dragons gained height again, soaring around their target in a semi-circular fashion before descending once again. They would not be so foolish as to make the same mistake as the Ascendants to wait and see what their initial attack had caused. A glint of read shimmered through the beautiful purple inferno on the ground, catching Theralions attention.

He flew slightly behind his sister, and could, from the corner of his eyes, see that she had already summoned another brust of flames, which were, incarcerated between her closed fangs, yearning to break free to unleash death and destruction.

Suddenly everything moved with tremendous strain, the air, his sister and time itself. The red shimmer fascinated him, it did not move, while the twilight flames around it gushed around in a fierce dance.

He could make out the red spot clearer with every painfully slow passing second. His surroundings started to get blured. They merged in a vortex of gaudy coloures and swirled toward the red dot, which by now had grown into an enormous red sun, bathing him in blinding amaranth. The sun blinked, revealing it to be an enormous eye which bore into his very soul. When realization hit him it was already to late.

Valiona pulled her head back, while she still fell toward the ground, determined to destroy her enemy once and for all with a point blank attack, when suddenly her body changed course, her wing had broken with a deep rumble. The dragon screamed in agony, jerking her head around to see what had happened. Her brother had angled his wings to his body so as to fall with her and ruptured her wing with his reptilian teeth! „Theralion you -!" She gasped in pain, but was cut off when he drove his claws into her body. He held on to her back now, jerked his head back and turned her around mid flight to expose her belly. Valiona was now falling with her back first straight to the ground. In a fit of anger she released her stored fire upon her brother, scourching his scales severely. He however had finally found her weak spot and while getting his scales burned himself ripped a big lump of flesh from her lower flank. The female dragon screached in anguish and reached with her maw to her brothers throat. He was still occupied with ravaging her intestines, so with the determination of someone moribund, she bit into his neck. While her teeth dug deeper into his flesh she could make out his eyes. Dull, barely open lids and extremely diliated iris. She realised her brother was under an Illusion of some sort before closing her tired Eyes.

She took her dying breath, moments before their bodies crashed into the ground.

Halfus realised the futility of their efforts, so he ordered his drake to land.

The creature set down right next to the wouned Ogre magi, whoose remaining head showed nothing but despair. „We have to flee, we have no way of fighting him in this situation" The Ettin urged his master. In order to lend his words a bit more emphasis he grabbed Cho'gall at his shoulder, in an effort to pull him to his feet. The Ogre did not allow himself to be moved however, and remained hunched to the ground on his knees. Realising his master was not willing to escape, the Ettin grabbed his weapon tighter and charged Roth.

Knowing what would transpire Halfus let a battlecry ripple through the air to eleviate his fear. A tentacle jerked right through the Attacker halting his aussault.

The great warrior toppled over. His weapon fell before Roths feet, while its Owner crashed into the dust with hollow eyes.

He was already dead.

The half human paced to the Ogre, whoose face mirrored resignation. In face of this defeat he had no choice but to accept death. He had wished to die with the Old Gods liberation to satiate their murderous desire, not unfullfilled before his task was completed. The only consolation he had was the notion of his dark masters obliterating their offspring for this betrayal.

When Roth glared into the Ogre magis face he felt a tingle of nostalgia. This must have been the expression he himself had three years ago, when he had lain dying on the first floor of Lavinas home. Despair, feebleness and hate looked straight at him with huge lazy eyes.

Roth materialized into his normal tangible form and reached for the Ogres face. Cho'gall was easily four or five times as tall as him but a Aquamarine tentacle, made of flesh, with small rows of white scales on its back reached from underneath Roths clothes to the Ogres head and pulled him down. When he was low enough Roth touched him with his hand, causing the Ogres eyes to roll back into his head, while his entire body shock. When Roth released his grib Cho'gall fell over. As if he was having a headache the boy held his forehead with his right arm. He glanced through his fingers at the Ogre. He did not twich anymore, instead his half opened mouth tripped saliva while his lifeless eyes stared into nothingness.

The Leader of the Twilight Hammer Clan was dead.


	10. Chapter 10

Saxia's delicate figure, clad in a piece of clothing little more than a black

rag, cast an improper contrast to her surroundings. She had arrived at the ruins of the bastion, barefoot standing in between corpses of crushed Twilight Hammer cultists. She faced Roth, who had made himself comfortable on a fraction of the Bastion.

The Elf looked around and studied the corpses. All four of the Elemental council had been reduced to piles of armour, leaving nothing else behind. The male twilight dragon had multiple burn marks on his scales, while his head was buried in the flank of his sister, as though he had attacked her himself. Her mangeled corspe lay in a bizzarly distorted fashion on the ground, still leaking blood.

In the distance Saxia could make out several Qiraj struggling with a protodrake. Its master lay sprawled out on the ground, the white of his eyes showing. The corpses eminated a violet hue, their souls had been directly attacked with the corrupting power of pure shadow. Maybe the worst ravaged of them all was Cho'gall himself. His remains lay scattered everywhere. Limbs torn from him, and his torso disembowled as though gigantic jaws had feed on him. The darkness had touched him aswell, Saxia could still feel poisoning the air.

„You ate him?" She asked Roth bluntly.

„After I devoured his soul." He answered callously „I couldn't eat him entirely though" He pointed to the wildly distributed lumps of flesh.

„What have you found out?" She continued.

„I'm still not sure, his soul and mind were so disfigured it's hard to distinguish between his own thoughts and the whispers of the old gods" He answered grimly.

„How will we proceed then?" She asked in an unsettled manner.

„Exactly as we planned: Ragnaros is next" He stated matter of factly while he stood up.

„If you're getting cold feet, why don't you take your cousin and kneel down before the Destroyers feet. Maybe he'll show forgiveness for one of his _lost _sheep" taunted Roth with a villanous smirk, while nodding in the direction of the protodrake.

„You know what the difference between the two of us is? I take pride in what I am" Saxia countered with an arrogant undertone.

„Proud about something you had absolutely no influence on, why am I not surprised." He went on, but Saxia simply ignored him.

_At the same time on kalimdor_

The battalion, a combination of Qiraj Gladiators, Battleguards and the occasional Anubisath, marched past Raynewood retreat. They were regarded with disdain by the Cenarion Protectors, even Shadumbra showed its hatred by hissing, while showing its deadly fangs. Unfazed the Insectiods marched towards fellwood. They had travelled almost exclusively by foot from Silithus. Every now and then the preceding scout platoon would try to open a two way portal, but unstable leylines rendered the portals unreliable at best. The Cataclysm was having far more severe effects on the world than most were realizing.

At this rate they would need another day to finally reach Hyial.

„Hold the line!" Malfurion belowed as his nightelven comrades were overrun by the first wave of molten Giants. The hulking behemoths crushed the neat phalanx of nightelves with sheer force.

He and his allies had made substantial progress in the last weeks, a surprise attack by the druids of the flame however had pushed their advance back to where they had first breached the molten front.

Some druids of the Talon had been infact sleeper agents of Ragnaros and sabotaged the defenselines.

Malfurion cursed, while channeling healing powers of the Wild to aid his comrades.

He knew they were fighting a losing battle. Hope was not lost however, the shadow Wardens had already begun slowing the advancing forces down.

They would focus on key figures in the enemy ranks to cripple their command structure. This meant the Guardians of Hyial could take advantage of their enemys disorganised onslaught. At the same time however it made their increasingly furious charges less predictable and dangerous.

At the dawn of a new day the Insectiods along with their immense Obsidian constructs had finally reached the now again blooming hills of Hyial. The Guardians of Hyial had made considerable progress against Ragnaros burning servants: Their druids had managed to regrow the local forest and started to revive some of the mighty Ancients which had fallen on this very ground ten-thousand years ago. Defending Azeroth they had paid the ultimate price, yet they are stirring from beyond the realm of the living to aid the mortal races once more. This unparalled feat however was not entirely due to the efforts of the druids. Brave heroes from the Horde and Alliance had taken it upon themselves to aid the Guardians and the green dragonflight against Ragnaros.

„Do not let them pass!" A large Kaldorei commanded when they had reached the Portal to the firelands. It was created by the Guardians themselves, its magic was held together by two large vines.

„You have no business here, leave this instant!" He demanded.

The Insectiods halted. Their chitin skin flashed in the morning sun, which made it shine with a strange elegance in the Kaldoreis eyes. Jarod Shadowsong stood before these interlopers. He would not allow them to endanger the Avengers inside the firelands. When he gave a subtle handsign, several kaldorei stepped out of the shadows, revealing themselves to the Qiraj, bows in hands.

Jarod knew he was impossibly outnumbered, his spirit was unshaken however, he would not allow them to pass. The Insectiods seemed to consider their options. They had their orders, if the Elf would not step down, they had no qualms about disembowling him and the others right there.

The two parties glared at each other, the Kaldorei with conviction, the Qiraj with apathy.

Jarod was getting impatient. The Insects had no intention of leaving. Their unwillingness to cast the first stone however unnerved him. He could feel his Soldiers restlessness aswell. All of them had taken aim already, eager to kill at his command. 'This is pointless' he thought and was about to reach for his blade, when a pitch black fog creept with incredible speed up to him. He drew his weapon and slashed the ghostly appearance. For an instant it was thrown into disarray and swirled about in a vortex before taking on the form of a human. A Grey haired adolescent man stood before him. The old kaldorei raised an eyebrow. The new guest was wearing a pitch black mantle, around which still danced barely visible strands of black. It seemed as though he was clad in darkness itself.


	11. Chapter 11

„Order your men to lower their weapons elf" Roth's voice seemed to ask for a favor, but neither his demeanor nor his stance betrayed any intention of pleading.

„I know very well who you are, the humans Messengers almost plunged over themselves when they hurried here to inform us.

But I won't allow this horde of abominations into the firelands. I have been tasked with the protection of this gateway and I won't allow a foreign army to join the battle if I don't trust them." Jarod shot the Qiraj another condemnatory glance before he spat on the ground to Roth's feet.

„Very well then" Roth sighed.

_Inside the Firelands_

'It was for naught' Malfurion thought to himself. The Firelords Army had defeated his advance at the ashen fields. The Avengers no longer had their initial fury when they belowed their battleshouts. Even the Shadow Wardens had lost their edge and had resorted to fall back and go into the defensive.

The Avengers muscles were aching from strain and their skin burned from the elementals immense heat, when they engaged them in close combat. Suddenly one of their own collapsed from exhaustion, and was promptly swarmed by several of the smaller elementals. A molten Giant took this as his cue to storm forward and crush the kaldoreis surprised comrades.

They had no chance.

Like an Inferno on legs the Giant broke trough, obliterating anything in his path, druids were crushed under his mighty heels, while he threw Guardians who tried to engage him to the sides.

The Giant was one of the few remaining on the front line, therefore he began to hope for a little more than just praise from the Firelord himself, should he manage to kill Malfurion himself.

His glory was shortlived however, vines doted with thorns broke loose from the scorched dead ground and enveloped the burning behemoth, halting his advance. Cenarius had called upon the powers of nature to stop the Intruder. While the Giant broke out in a fit of rage, desperately trying to free himself from his bondage, several dozen fire elementals rushed through the gap between the defenders to finish their massive brothers attempt at the Archdruids live. Malfurion instilled with new vigor by his Mentor, summoned forth an enormous storm, which sweept down on the fire elementals, extinguishing most of them instantly. A handful of them tried desperately to hold on to their ephermal forms, but the unforgiving storm streched their appearance into a bizzare vortex of fire.

Malfurions doubled his efforts and ripped the elementals appart.

When the wind had settled the great druid fell to his knees. Sweat ran down his violet face, while he slowly tried to get up on his feet again. Cenarius bend down to help his old friend and student, but was interrupted by an enormous roar, followed by several deafing cracking noises. The source was quickly located: The trapped Giant had managed to rip trough some of his shackles, each time he broke through one of the massive veins noise filled the air as though a tree had been snaped.

When the glowing behemoth was finally free and preparing to charge the two, Cenarius had already begun summoning treants to defend them, while Malfurion gathered elemental lighting in his hands.

Before Malfurion could unleash the primordial powers upon his foe however, a flash of arcane energies rushed past both of them and struck their assailant. The subsequent explosion of magic ripped the molten Monstrosity's left side appart. While the Giant fell dead to the ground, Mentor and Student turned their heads to regared their unexpected helper.

They caught sight of a young man, clad in a pitch black mantle, which billowed behind him in the wind. He lowered his hand while sparks of arcane slowly died down between his fingers. Behind him and to his sides perched togehter stood dozens of Qiraj of all creeds. Malfurion could also observe several Anubisath constructs wading through the heap of Qiraj towards the front. With a casual hand wave from the Adolescent in black the Insectoids began assembling themselves in a defensive formation around the sentinel tree, while the obsidian constructs went on the offensive against Ragnaros forces.


	12. Chapter 12

_Somewhere in Elwynn_

Her _auburn eyes_ never once broke their gaze on his. Even while she moved her mouth over his burning hot shaft. He relished in the feeling her lips left on his skin, while she took him into her cavitiy over and over again. Now and then she would release him, to play with her tongue around his pelvis, heightening his sensitivity in the overall area. Each time she retreated he could see cords of saliva dangle from her lips, accompanied by slight plashing noices when ever she leaned forward again to swallow him whole. One of his hands moved up to her hair, _through her ashern black curly hair_., as he approached the crescendo she was trying to bring about. When breathing became more rapid and irregular, he leened against the wall adjacent to the bed they lay in. His eyes slightly lost focus when he felt an enormous throb crawl through his stomach and pelvis, all the more surprised was the girl, eagerly attending to him, when he suddenly tightened his grib on her head and pulled her in. Unable to free herself from his grasp, she squirmed about for a moment, before he shot his release into her throat with an animalistic groan.

He released her and let himself fall flat on his back, while she pulled her way coughing heavily with tears in her slitted eyes.

Once he was ready to go again, they changed positions. She moved towards the bed and bend over. Her upper body was supported by her arms, while she poised her rear to him. He could not help but smirk devilishly, and took is time to get to her while carefully observing her form. She certainly had beautiful legs, he thought to himself, long but curvy. As his eyes traced along the body of the young girl a sign of black ink, scribbled on her lower back caught his attention. The dimly lid room did its due and it took him a moment to identify what it exactly was. His smirk grew even wider when realization dawned on his face. The Mark of the twilight hammer cult. A primitve Hammer, placed on an spiked disc. The disc highlighted the Hammer like a divine tool, a force necessary to bring about a prophecy. 'So there was hers' He thought to himself, while taking a look on his own mark on his right shoulder.

„You little slut" he grumbled with sinister lust, before he grabed her at the hip and entered her violently. Excitement, surged through his body, while he ravaged her raw and rampant. By now her voice was a staccato of short groans and muffled screams. Her tightening gave him only more incentive to be brutal with her. Streams of sweat and other fluids, the product of their primal union, let their body glisen in their passionate act. They were not so much partners or equals, than they were calculating colleges, each using the other for what they desired right now.

„I guess I was really lucky to be stationed here with a whore such as yourself" He exclaimed painting heavily, once again feeling the delightfull throb building up.

„Don't you agree Lavina?"

She didn't answer him, instead merely turned her head slightly to regard him with one eye. She was tired, her eyelid hung deep, the only thing showing she was alive was her rapid breathing.

'So lost in it she can't even make a sound' He thought selfsatisified, oblivious to the faint glimmer of hate in her sleepy gaze. He felt the end of their little diversion drawing on a close on his end, so pushed her to the wall and released inside her. Her fingernails scraped along the rigid stone, as if to stop herself falling from a tremendous height. Limp, and without any strength left they let themselves slide down onto the bed.

„My condition was that you wouldn't come inside" She finally spoke, after they had rested for a while in silence.

„I couldn't help myself. Also it won't really matter, aslong as the cult manages to liberate the Ancient ones" He said trying to appease her.

„I'm not very found of the idea of carrying your bastard, when that happens." She clarified while she was picking up her sprawled out clothes from the floor.

„Who knows, maybe we're even killed before that happens" He retorted without smuggness.

„As if, this is a safe house, not a vital structure like the Bastion was" She said while putting on her black kneesocks.

„Still it's unbelievable, what is that guy. How come he has Qiraj and silithid at his disposal?"

„Deathwing will find a way to destroy him either way, underlings such as ourselves shouldn't bother with him. Focus on why we're here Darrick."

„Right."


	13. Chapter 13

_At the Moltenfront_

Malfurion was still baffled at the newcomer.

„Order your men and women to retreat" said Roth while he walked up to Master and Student, both of whom had not moved since his arrival.

„So you are Roth" Malfurion commented, while getting up on his feet.

„You know this creature?" Cenarius asked his student, mistrust leaking from every single syllable.

„Merely from reports" He assured, while contemplating the youth before him.

Roth was starting to wonder wether they had even registered his proposal, but before he could remind them, Malfurion seized the opportunity to speak.

„Retreat! Disengage your enemy and bring the wounded back!" He shouted to his comrades.

„Malfurion..." Cenarius began, but was cut short by the Archdruid:" We will retreat to the sentinel tree but no further." He had lowered his voice, so only the demigod and Roth could hear him.

„Very well" Roth agreed. He was pleased the Archdruid relinquished any question he might have had infavor of the well being of the Avengers.

The fire elements were indifferent to the arrival of a new enemy. They did not care who invaded them, Intruders, whoever they might be needed to burn.

Obsidian clashed with molten stone. The Anubisath lost no time, and engaded any elemental insight. The Qiraj on the other hand first secured the Avengers retreat, before joining the constructs.

By now even some of Ragnaros' most powerful servants got involved.

The young of Beth'tilac swarmed the ashern fields to defend. The ancient Rhyolith, slow in movement, but almost unstoppable when angered, scuffed slowly toward the invaders, sending tremurs through the ground with each deliberate step. Even Shannox set out with his dogs to hunt and kill.

But the most problematic of all was Alysrazor.

Transformed from Dragon into Firehawk, the traitorous creature soared the skies above the invaders while spewing fire at every turn.

Not prepared for the aerial assault, the constructs started to throw boulders at their assailant, but the feathered elemental proved to swift for the dull golems.

Roth smirked, he still had plans with the elementals of the firelands. He would leave his soldiers behind, this was their battle. He had his own to attend to.

Without wasting anymore time he turned into an agglomeration of black fog and vanished into the sky, leaving a trail of dark haze behind.

He gained flight fast in this ephermal state and once his servants on the ground where little more than tiny specks of colors he stopped his ascend and headed towards Sulfuron Keep.

He wanted to confront Ragnaros as fast as possible. If he could defeat the Elemental Lord, his minions would surrender. Without him driving the elementals on, the firelands defences would crumble, which would secure the survival of the Worldtree atleast for a little while longer. His thought process was cut short however – by a giant flaming sword piercing the air, where he had just moments before floated through the sky. He noticed immediately who had made an attempt at his life. The elemental monstrosity guarding the gate, Baleroc, had hurled one of its swords into the air, and was reading the other one for another try.

Roth descended toward his aggressor. He would simply take him out here. If he continued further to face Ragnaros the Gatekeeper would certainly follow. Roth had no intention to fight both of them at the same time.

Baleroc changed his plans at the last second. Shortly before Roth hit him the enormous elemental dove to the side, evading the ball of darkness, and rose back to his feet. Roth's hazy shape crashed into the ground and spurted into all directions, as if a massive drop of ink had fallen onto the earth.

Baleroc slowly approached the puddle of black, unsure on how to proceed. It was completely flat, like water it had spread thinly upon the molten ground, creating a brillant black mirror. The elemental was drawn in by the curious object, almost forgetting he was engaged in combat with whatever lay before him. Baleroc thrust his sword into the black mass and paused surprised. He had expected somekind of resistance, if not from the liquid, then from the ground underneath. Yet he did not feel any resistance at all. It was as if he had stabbed air. Suddenly several Aquamarine tentacles reached from within the dark surface for the stunned elemental. Quickly they got a hold of his limps, disabling him. He cursed while trying to breakfree, but struggled invain. A hand burst from within the dark void, and reached for the edges where it began. Another one surfaced and did the same. Slowly Roth pulled himself back into reality, from his two-dimensional dwelling place. Baleroc was taken aback at the surreal scene before his eyes and ceased his efforts to free himself.

Just as Roth gathered arcane energies to finish him off, the youth jumped back several feet in surprise.

A cyclone of fire swooped down on him and his disabled adversary, he barely dodged. Baleroc was engulfed in flames, while Roth spun his head to the newcomer. An Elf clad in only a kilt and shoulderplates had appeared at Mortal's demise. His skin was red, covered in glowing orange runes, which burned fiercely, even behind his eyes there seemed to burn a restless fire, ready to sear anyone foolish enough to draw their gaze. He had no time however to continue his observation: Baleroc rushed forth from his fiery prison, the flames had weakend Roth's grip on him, allowing the ancient Elemental to break free. The released behemoth leaped swiftly toward the boy. Roth clenched his fist, increasing the surge of arcane eminating from his hand, ready to meet the monstrosity, when he noticed something. Little sparks of fire had started to swirl around his arm. He noticed several more around him and when he regarded one of them hovering eerily by his face, it seemed to resemble a little seed. A flash of light, followed by innumerable explosions obscuring Roth's form. Baleroc did not back-pedal however, instead he brought down his sword upon the pillar of fire with a force capable of leveling a small building. The ground was shattered, the flames exstinguished. Nothing else of the interloper remained than seared ash.


	14. Chapter 14

„Staghelm..." Baleroc hissed with contempt toward the Elf. The elemental had no respect for the once mortal creature, who had now become Ragnaros new Majordomo. He thought Ragnaros was foolish to once more allow a Creature not entirely of fire to be his second-in-command. However he remained silent. It was not up to him to question his Masters judgement. All the enormous elemental had to do was stand guard. Forever.

„You seem displeased" Staghelm noted, regarding the Guardian with a most arrogant tone in his voice.

„Obviously! That intruder was mine" Baleroc stated, while he poised himself threatingly before Staghelm.

„If I had not intervened, your fragmented body would be adorning this very ground by now."

Even though Baleroc was enraged at the Elf's impudence, he had to admit he was right.

While Baleroc could do nothing more than stand before the Elf in silence, a fine stream of blood crept towards Staghelm's feet ever so slightly.

Staghelm wanted to leave, return to his vigil before Ragnaros chambers, but something caught his attention.

Mortals. Lead by a scarred Tauren had pushed through the Firelords exhausted armies.

They had arrived shortly after the Qiraj and used them as a distraction to confront Ragnaros himself. They were a mixed bunch, men and women of the Alliance and Horde, marching side by side. Archdruid Hamuul Runetotem lead them on. Cenarius and Malfurion followed.

„Today an unusal amount of mortals rush to their deaths, must be -" Staghelm stopped midsentence.

A bloodied hand grabbed his leg, forcing him to stay put. „Wha-" The elf looked at the ground. It had been sullied by an enormous amount of blood. From within the void of crimson he believed to glimpse upon a twisted smile.

Baleroc turned around instantly upon hearing Staghelms muffled scream. The Elemental Faced a maw of sorts, cylinder like, with misshapen, pointed teeth. The pale, almost eggshell white gorge of teeth seemed to sprout from the ground. Baleroc could only stare surprised before Staghelm was devoured whole.

Baleroc was caught off guard, struck by a bolt of arcane energy, which hurled the behemoth to the ground with a deafening sound. Once again he bore witness as Roth rose from the ground.

A cluster of rigded aquamarine tentacles slithered forth from him and slashed down at the fallen elemental. Baleroc fought back with as much strength as he was able to muste against the onslaught, but ultimately met his fate under the never ending barrage.

Roth averted his eyes from the broken elemental. Hamuul, Cenarius and Malfurion along with their army of mortal champions were already out of sight. They had trespassed directly into the Firelords private chambers.

He had to hurry.


	15. Chapter 15

The heros had rushed through Ragnaros Courtyard. At one or two instances they were forced to engage one of the Firelords servants, but they never struggled and quickly marched on.

With each step, the heat became more and more unbearable. Everywhere they looked fire burned, blinding them. But their determination never faltered. When they finally reached Ragnaros, each and everyone of them had grime sticking to their bodies and weals covering their skin.

The Firelords throne room was like a massive furnace. Stonewalls, adorned here and there with spikes, were erected in a circular fashion around an enormous fire pit. In its center a platform floated, decorated with runes.

On it Ragnaros waited.

He was a bizarre spectacle of molten stone and fire, a wild agglomeration of fury. They could merely see his upperbody, his lower region seemed to reach into the ground itself. Wether or not this was true none of them could confirm, since a firestorm reaching from the ground to his chest obscured their vision. Even in this from he was enormous. His armor alone probably weighted several dozens of tons.

One human looked from the edge of the platform into the fiery hell that waited below them. The molten stone was blinding, and he felt his resolution dwindling with every agonizing, burning second. He was not the only one. A general insecurity had taken hold of them. Suddenly the prospect to face Ragnaros seemed ridiculous, preposterous even.

„Today, we finish what we started at skywall! This time around we do not face a storm, but an inferno instead. But rest assured comrades, we defeated an Elemental Lord before, haven't we? Ragnaros has nothing he can threaten us with, nothing we did not already overcome! We will end his reign of terror like we ended his brother Al'Akir!"

This was all the encouragement they needed. They had tempted fate numerous times before, how was this any different?

Malfurion listened with verve to the Orcs speech. He lead on a mighty army, the very same brave bunch who had challenged the lichking and brought a new tomorrow to this world. Champions among heros they were, once again united in the quest to save this World.

„Mortal Insects! You dare trespass into my domain? Your arrogance will be purged in living flame!" Ragnaros threatened enraged. His voice rippled through the air, shaking the very ground Malfurion stood upon.

„We will not falter before you, fiend! Heros Attack!" Malfurion bellowed, invigorating the Champions to stand up against impossible odds.

„Arise, servants of fire! Consume their flesh!" Ragnaros ordered, prompting the emergence of several Elemental giants of fire.

„I shall sear your essence from your flesh, your fools journey ends here!"

The battle had begun. Several Warriors, clad in heavy armor, armed with powerful shields and mighty weapons engaged the firelords minions.

This gave the mages and warlocks among them the chance to cast deadly magic upon their foes, while their Healers rushed to aid their warriors.

Ragnaros observed with mild interest as these mortals struggled against his minions. He could see how easily the heat diminished their will to fight. Their moves became more sluggish as the battle went on. They had no chance, Malfurion, Cenarius and hamuul had their hands full just trying to keep them alive. The Firelord saw no reason to drag this out anyfurther.

„Fall to your knees mortals! this ends now!" The heros watched in horror as the behemoth of fire lifted Sulfuras, above their heads. The mighty Hammer seemed to the hover omniously over them, like a sword of Damocles. Then the spiked weapon tilted slightly forward and descended upon them.

One of the warriors was chrushed instantly. It was not over yet however. The moment Sulfuras connected with ground, a fire cone erupted from within the weapon. It washed over the heros, blinding their eyes and scorching their flesh. Those who were not afflicted rushed to the fallen, desperately trying to extinguish the flames.

Cenarius attacked Ragnaros directly, by exhaling a freezing storm upon him. While demigod and Firelord engaged oneanother, Malfurion called up a cloudburst to aid the burned Champions.

It was disheartening. The archdruid felt himself falling into a daze. The rain fell so slowly. He could see the wounded kneeling above the dead, hugging them close. Were those tears on their faces? Or merely rain drops? It was so hard to move. He had to strain hard just to walk.

Water was now pouring down in buckets, his feet made splashing noises when he moved. He looked down, blood trickled through his toes. He could no longer see the faces around him. Their anguish obscured by rain and fog. He no longer heared their screams, just the clashing of raindrops.

The Elf's vision was a blur of grey, black and blue. Then a clash. Ragnaros had swung down a second time. But Malfurion could not make out where. Suddenly the curtain of vapor was illuminated to his right. Apatheticly he made out the figures of people against the fog, they writhed in agony. Then his vision fell dark again. Malfurion did not have to wait long however. Another bolt of light gave im temporary vision, this time to his left. Again he saw shadowy figures bending in pain. Ragnaros was killing them, one immense strike at a time.


	16. Chapter 16

You have probably already noticed I'm very bad at cutting the story into chapters. That is why this one also ends rather abruptly. Sorry for taking this long, I really have nothing to say to defend myself aside from being incredibly lazy. Especially since my finals are more or less over. But If there is anyone who actually enjoys what I write… here you go 8-)

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„Pathetic Insects" Ragnaros remarked contemptuously while lifting Sulfuras from the ground. The battlefield before him was obscured by a dense fog, which had resulted from Malfurions downpour.

His arrogant calmness was short lived however. The Elemental Lord shook immensely and cried out in pain, as a gigantic blade pierced his Torso from behind. He could see the weapon breaking through his chest. The fact that it had been driven with ease through his armor and body baffled him, so he regarded the pure black piece of metal for a moment with amazement before jerking around while swinging Sulfuras towards his unseen attacker. His strike was stopped however, as something grabbed his arm. Ragnaros turned his head further in order to regard his assailant. What he beheld was an enormous agglomeration of black haze, swirling about. Upon closer inspection he noticed a malformed humanoid form within the darkness. Its limbs were long and slender. The black vortex of haze surrounded its entire surface creating the Illusion it wore clothes of darkness. It was not as huge as Ragnaros was, not by any stretch of imagination. Yet it towered slightly over Ragnaros half sumerged form. A twitch, followed by stinging pain in his chest interrupted the Firelords survey.

The creature had retracted its blade, but still held a firm grip on the Elementals limb, keeping Sulfuras at bay.

„Outsider this is not your realm! "

Ragnaros was furious. In a fit of anger he broke free, but was stopped once again before he could retaliate. This time however it were Cenarius, Malfurion and Hamuul, who obstructed the Lord of all fire elementals. Malfurion had cast down a surge of water upon the molten vortex in which Ragnaros dwelled. However this alone did not incapacitate the Elemental. Aided by Cenarius magic, the water transformed the fire pit into steaming Stone, which trapped Ragnaros from his waist down.

He was livid. The air around Ragnaros flickered with heat, manifested from his rage. Bursts of blinding fire sprout forth from him. As the embodiment of Fire, the element most closely associated with rage, he would hold true to his image and burn these Insects who so arrogantly invaded his throne room.

The heat was unbearable. Those mortals left standing, writhed in agony, while their flesh was seared by the Firelords wrath. In a matter of moments there were those who could no longer bear it. They fell to the ground shaking, while their bodies gave in.

„Restraining him did nothing! If he raises the temperature any further we're all dead" Malfurion shouted desperately to his Teacher.

„Leave already. Your men are dead if they stay here any longer. They were no help to begin with".

Malfurion backpedaled for a moment. A voice echoed through his mind, ordering him to retreat.

The Elf turned his head to regard the umbral giant. Then he realized who it was.

"Retreat! Everyone leave this instant! Take everyone you can carry!"

His Order reverberated inside the massive cauldron with unmistakable authority. Slowly but surely his mortal allies left Ragnaro's throne room.

"Flee from this place mortals, but do not think my work is done. From the realm of fire my armies are reborn! The living flame will cleanse this wretched world of your mortal corruption. Purity will be restored!" Content with gloating the Firelord let them leave, before he turned his attention to the dark creature which had ambushed him.

"You are one of the Ancients ones" Ragnaros remarked, while lifting his left to the wound in his chest.

"Not entirely" came the reply, in an unconcerned, slowly but deliberate tone, resonating directly within his mind.

"What do you hope to gain by aiding these insects?" Ragnaros went on, while he lifted himself from his lithic prison. His legs broke through the shield of stone with ease, and levied his massive body onto the platform.

No answer.

"What do you call yourself?"

"Goth'Roth"

The Master of fire now stood tall, dwarfing Goth'Roth, but his left's attention was still focused on his wound, betraying how dangerous the surprise attack had actually been for the Firelord.

"I won't allow you to burn Hyial" Roth stated, while readying his blade in his right.

It was a most peculiar piece of metal. Ragnaros contemplated the weapon cautiously.

It was most certaintly tainted; it consumed the light around it entirely, causing no reflection of light from its edge. It looked similar to a sabre, one-edged, some fine runes running along the blade, ending in intricate patterns at its hilt.

The weapon of an Eternal, otherwise it could not have wounded him so easily.

"You won't allow me to burn Hyial? Amusing I thought I was almost finished in doing so!"

Ragnaros taunted and charged his opponent.

Sulfuras was brought down with ground shattering might. Hammer and sabre clashed. But the far smaller weapon kept Sulfuras in check. Blows were exchanged, both adversaries held their respective weapons with one hand, while balancing their moves with the other.

Sulfuras was a gleaming mass of Elementium and whenever it clashed with the dark sabre, great showers of sparks and gleaming metal pieces burst from the impact, followed by deafening crashes.

The Firelord's attacks were repelled at every turn, but he could feel his physical superiority.

Roth lacked the physical prowess to wound him critically. The injury in his chest was the result of a cowardly attack, which effects Roth could not hope to reproduce while in mortal combat with Ragnaros himself.

"Time to end this!" Ragnaros exclaimed, lifting Sulfuras in the air to finish of his opponent.

The weapon started to gleam blindingly, while torrents of fire danced around it. The Firelord empowered Sulfuras. The mighty Hammer tilted forward, and rushed down, to devastate Roth.

It came down, impacted the ground and unleashed an explosion of such power, Roth and Ragnaros himself were engulfed in the blast. The explosion rushed to the sky as a pillar of fire, slowly reaching its peak. Then the flames rushed downward again as if they had suddenly remembered gravity. Like water it poured down, washed over the still bend down Firelord and over the platform of his Throne room. He had encountered no resistance. Had he missed? No he was certain he had not.

Ragnaros remained motionless while trying to fathom the location of his opponent.

A small shadow lurked at the corner of his eye, drawing his attention. Upon further inspection he beheld an obfuscating shape. Seemingly consisting of spiraling streams of transparent violet, the Firelord could make out a vaguely human form.

"There you are!"

Ragnaros charged the phantom like apparition only to slip right through.

Startled he turned around, watching as Roth grabbed his saber tightly in both hands, the weapon had become a translucent vibrating mirage just like its wielder. Then Roth stormed forward, delivering a vertical strike to the Firelords chest.

The molten behemoth collapsed to his knees, hunched forward in pain.

He could not understand what had transpired. He had been cut, but his Armor was still intact, no evidence of a wound. And yet he could feel is strength draining as the pain resonated through his body.

Roth stood before the wounded elemental, now again fully material. He examined himself before

he stated casually:" It seems as though I can't maintain displaced for longer than a few moments in this form"

"Which means you have run out of tricks" Ragnaros asserted, while readying Sulfuras to decide this duel once and for all.

"Hardly" Roth answered, pointing with his claw like finger at the Firelord.

Ragnaros surprise at the gesture did not last long. Quickly after Roth let his arm fall down to his side, several Aquamarine tentacles appeared on Ragnaros chest and back. With Horror the Elemental realized they protruded from within his body. In a flash they had engulfed him.

"You insolent wretch, you have corrupted my body!" He screamed, spewing little balls of fire at Roth with every syllable.

"Actually it's a curse" Roth replied. "And it will kill you shortly"

The Firelord's eyes narrowed, or to be more precise the fire in his eyes actually shrunk to a piercing glint.

"How and when did you place it?" He asked maliciously. Roth did not answer, but realization struck Ragnaros just moments later. The Curse had been nesting in him even before he noticed the dark god's presence.

"When you pierced me with that rotten blade from behind like the coward you are!"

He reasoned with contempt.


	17. Chapter 17

_The Firelord's eyes narrowed, or to be more precise the fire in his eyes actually shrunk to a piercing glint._

"_How and when did you place it?" He asked maliciously. Roth did not answer, but realization struck Ragnaros just moments later. The Curse had been nesting in him even before he noticed the dark god's presence._

"_When you pierced me with that rotten blade from behind like the coward you are!"_

_He reasoned with contempt._

"Indeed" Roth confirmed. His voice was impassive now, almost bored, as if a he was a brat who had grown tired of tormenting a cat after breaking its legs, content with letting the animal starve to death in agonizing pain, unable to move.

The malformed god turned his back on the Firelord, ready to depart.

Ragnaros chuckled; it sounded like rocks grinding against each other, before he raised his voice:" You have never truly faced someone capable of killing you, have you?"

"And if that is true, what difference would that make, you are already dying, your hammer can no longer reach me, it never could from the beginning." Roth stated, turning his head around to regard the disgraced Master of fire. The defeated behemoth was aching under the tentacles corrupting touch. The fire in his eye sockets was faint, molten stone dripped from his body to the floor, grew cold and hardened to black heaps. He was finished.

"You are naïve, that's what I'm telling you." Ragnaros retorted, steading himself as he spoke.

"This is my residence, my fort, my realm. THESE LANDS ARE MINE!"

The platform both were standing on shock immensely. Roth had no difficulty to keep on standing, the ground underneath the Firelord however shattered. As a result he fell into the cauldron of magma below. His body was swallowed whole by the glowing masses, leaving no trace of him behind.

Roth neared to the broken edge to take look below, only to jump to the side, dodging a raging stream of fire from underneath.

"It seems a curse isn't enough to finish you off, but hiding like coward is this really the best I can expect from the _living flame_" Roth taunted annoyed. As if to answer him, three more streams came for him. Arcane energy engulfed the dark god, shielding him from being burned to ash.

With a quick hand movement he made his sword disappear, and clasped his hands together. Magic currents surged around his fingers, illuminating his entire form in an eerie blue light. The masses of molten stone below began to billow to the sides of the pit in waves, growing fiercer with every passing second. Cracks began to form in Ragnaros throne room under the strain of magic performed within.

Soon the bottom lay bare, revealing the Firelord below.

Ragnaros looked around, watching as the molten stone which had just moments ago protected him surged along the walls around him defying gravity under Roth's spell. He had hoped he could hide down here a bit longer. Still he felt lucky: at least the corruption in his body had been purged. He was ready to fight once more.

Roth unclasped his hands, causing the magic between his fingers to disappear. The effect of his spell persisted however. With a sudden movement Roth leaped from what was left of Ragnaros Throne room, down into the drained cauldron underneath to confront the Firelord. He descended with his arms open, while the darkness which engulfed him swirled wildly around him. He descended like the Grim Reaper, ready to embrace his victim with death.

"Stop staring and tend to the wounded!" Malfurion shouted to a young Nightelf, who could not avert his eyes from Sulfuron Keep. Malfurion and Cenarius had just arrived at the Sentinel tree, with dozens of wounded. The young druid was not thrown off guard by the number of victims in dire need of healing, but the deafening noises carried from Ragnaros fortress to his ears. A massive battle was taking place just a short march away, and the elf could not overcome his need to look, to see with his own eyes what took place over there. Realizing it was pointless to reprimand the youth anymore, the great druid let his own curiosity get the better of him, and turned to look himself.

He could see a lone stream of fire burst forth from within Sulfuron Keep vanishing into the thick dark clouds above. Just moments later he could see three more, bolting into the sky.

Then nothing.

Had Ragnaros bested his opponent? The old druid asked himself worried. Then blue rays of light broke through the walls of the fortress. Debris and a great cloud of dust burst forth, then another flash of light and Malfurion could see Ragnaros flung through the air, falling from his fortress. It took a few moments until he realized what he had seen, just when the air finally delivered the breathtaking noise of arcane explosions and a giant body crashing into the ground to him. The dust cloud at Sulfuron keep cleared revealing an immense hole in its wall, and then an enormous dark figure appeared, looking down on the fallen elemental.

"You shame yourself Ragnaros" Roth declared, while slowly stepping down where the Firelord had fallen. For a short moment he had been surprised at how quickly the molten behemoth had recovered, but he just was no match for his arcane powers.

"And you leave yourself wide open!" Ragnaros retorted gleefully. Roth stopped in his tracks and looked to his feet. The charred stone on which he stood was lighting up, with countless burning rune marks to his feet. There were seven of them, forming a circle around him. Suddenly each of them sent forth a beam of fire into the air. Roth raised his hand to conjure a spell and counter the trap but it was too late: The flames vanished and revealed massive glowing chains. They moved by themselves and shackled the dark god firmly.

"It seems our positions have been reversed Outsider" Ragnaros remarked while Roth fell to his knees, towed down.

"You trespassed too deeply into enemy territory, too deep into _my _Realm!" Then Ragnaros lifted his great Hammer and struck down on his defenseless victim. Sulfuron clashed with Roths face, spinning his head to the otherside. Ragnaros hauled out once more to strike again. He battered Roth until the floor was drenched with his black blood. His form was still obscured by a dark haze clinging to him, so Ragnaros could not make out the actual damage he had done, but the sounds of cracking skull and the subsequent flow of blood made it inconsequential to him.

He decided to let off for now and kneeled down to face Roth better. With Sulfuron he lifted Roths chin until he faced him. Although he could not make out his face, he was sure the bastard son of the old gods looked him right in the eyes.

"You've lost _Goth'Roth_" he told him savoring every word with as much menace as he could.

"You think so?" Roth stated unconcerned "I told you, you can't reach me"

"It seems I have beaten you senseless, but rest assured I'll put you out of your misery right now" Ragnaros spat while lifting Sulfuras into the air for the finishing blow. Before he could strike down however Roth broke his shackles got to his feet and summoned his blade stabbing the Firelord deeply into his chest. He had done all this in one swift movement, leaving Ragnaros no time to react. Roth retracted the blade, and lifted it with two hands to slash down on the stunned Behemoth. Molten stone splattered from Ragnaros wounds. He was defeated. His corporeal form crumbled, while his legs gave way.

He melted into pile on the floor until only his face remained intact within the cooling lava which once composed him.

"How did you break free" The defeated Firelord asked tiredly. Roth pointed to the runes. They had been extinguished by a black substance which now retracted and slowly glid up to Roth.

"Your cursed blood" Ragnaros said, more to himself than to Roth.

"You are finished Ragnaros, all that's left for you now is to watch as I enslave your elementals to my service, I'm sure they will make formidable shock troopers against Deathwing's remaining minions" Roth stated indifferently as though he was talking about the coming weather.

„We'll see about that" Ragnaros distorted face grunted.

Roth pitied the Elementals empty threats and was about to leave him as he suddenly felt a gigantic movement in the surrounding leylines. The feeling was unsettling, he had never experienced such tremors before, nor could he make sense of them. All he knew for sure was that something was going terribly wrong.

An enormous flash turned the night into day and blinded Malfurion and Cenarius while they tended to their wounded allies. A massive pillar of fire rose into the sky, it originated from within Sulfuron keep and quickly dwarfed the fortress in comparison before it was swallowed whole by fire. A gigantic shockwave rippled through the firelands, shaking the ground and throwing Malfurion of his feet. It was followed directly by a wall of flames engulfing everything in its path. The molten front was devastated, the magma springs, widows clutch and ashern fields disappeared completely.

The gigantic fireball reached Malfurion's Breach in a flash, melting the ground and burning the Sentinel Tree with ease.


	18. Chapter 18

Dark.

Devoid.

_Dead_.

Those were the words Roth's mind formed about his surroundings.

He could hear waves crashing.

A sea must be near.

Spiraling towers pierced the heaven before his eyes. Long monoliths scattered between them, created from black stone. They seemed to sprout from the earth randomly, but still were aligned with one another.

Or so Roth thought at least.

He lifted his head further, gazing upon the moon, shining through the darkness, bathing his surroundings in eerie blue light.

The sound of water breaking upon reaching an unseen shore was the only thing he could hear.

A shimmer of orange flashed to his right.

For a moment Roth thought he saw a humanoid shape, its skin burning. It seemed to have watched him and then left before he could notice. He also heard a snarl and the beating of heavy wings.

Suddenly his nose stung, as he inhaled a disgusting miasma. The air stank of ammonia and fish.

Again a flash of orange caught his eye, this time long enough for him to give chase, through the peculiar maze of towers and monoliths.

What he did not notice was the shadow following his every step, cast by a creature so similar to him as though it was a twin.

The Night was serene in Darnassus. Nightelves, Wisps and even the occasional Ancient, made their way through one of the many roads of the winding city, which seemed to arch itself in between the standing Trees.

A gentle breeze made its way from the vast ocean, spiraling ever so high on the sides of the mighty tree Teldrassil only to waft by a nightelf Priestess overseeing the peaceful city from a balcony of the Moon Temple.

Tyrande Whisperwind stood barefoot, observing the great city. Hers was a look of patience, watching over this safe haven for her kind. But her mind was somewhere else. It wandered to the one soul she had waited on to return for millennia of solitude. How much she would give to have him by her side on this night. To have his gentle hand caress her shoulders, while their eyes would meet, great orbs like the moon itself.

But she was alone.

And while she indulged herself in nostalgia, her ears were deaf to the sound of footsteps behind her.

A knock on the half open door snapped her out of her daydream. Tyrande moved from the balcony and turned her back on the city.

"Enter" Her soft, motherly voice echoed through the room. A young priestess entered with lowered head. Tyrande was not surprised. The Temple rarely housed someone unaffiliated with the sisterhood of Elune, let alone on the highest floor. She was curious however, since it was out of the ordinary that a sister asked for advice at such a late hour.

"What troubles you my dear" Tyrande asked gently while slowly approaching the young girl, still standing next to the half open door unable to face her mentor.

Then the door opened completely. A watcher stood in the door; she quickly kneeled down before the High priestess, acknowledging her status.

Tyrande's demeanor darkened.

"Jarod sent you?" She asked quickly.

"Yes" was the short spoken answer.

"If he sends one of you, child the news must be dire" Tyrande concluded with a stern look on her face.

"I fear they are"

Roth had lost whomever he followed.

The figure had let him to an Altar of some sort. It was surrounded by a number of spiked pillars, darting wildly into the sky. Once he had entered the forest of spikes he was able to behold clearly what they had concealed: A staircase, old no _Ancient_, made of broken steps, yet not touched by dust or similar filth, yet undeniably touched by time. It looked as though it had endured through aeons, leading up to a platform, presenting a number of dark statues. They were cast in shadow, silhouetted only faintly against the moon's ill rays. Roth could not make out their exact number, only that two of them were broken, one crippled, the other shattered completely into seven unrecognizable pieces.

Movement: A reptilian shape, stepped forth from the maze of spikes behind the altar.

Slowly but with purpose and feline agility it crept up to the stairs and sat down.

Roth likened it to a pet seating itself at the side of its masters.

Then he realized, it was his sacrificial lamb, with which he thought to fulfill his plan.

And it was their puppet.

But he felt eyes watching him. Even though he saw the idols he sought to destroy together with their toy right in front of him, he knew the true danger lingered in the shadows and had been following him all along, eager to step into the light and reveal itself.

But, first things first: He reached with his arms for the reptile, to spill its blood for his mad ritual. Yet the creature would not let him capture it so easily. It snarled and bit his left hand, which had reached greedily for it. Wounded he let his arm dangle from his body, shredded but not yet dead.

Instead he tried with his right.

But his hand would no longer carry out his orders. So long, so Faithfull his right had been. He could only stare in disbelief as his right hand closed its fingers around his neck, choking him.

He tried to wrestle with himself, but to no avail. His head felt dizzy and his footing became weak.

"They are no longer yours; they never were in the first place!" A dark, alien voice rumbled with glee: so much like his.

Then he felt a sting and feel to his knees. A piece of black metal pierced his chest, a blade, _his_ blade!

Roth strained to turn his head, to see the face of his murderer. But he could not muster the strength, all he saw before his conscience faded was a smirk full of malevolence.

Then he realized: it was his own.

After Tyrande had dismissed the Watcher, she returned to the balcony, where she had lingered just moments ago.

There was still a soft breeze in the air. But it no longer felt soothing to have it play with her hair while she looked at the untroubled city she had to safeguard. It felt cold, making her arms reach around her body to conserve what little warmth she had left. She could no longer see the beautiful Darnassus she knew. Not with the tears running seemingly endless from her pained face.


	19. Chapter 19

Lavina and Derrick strolled the paved streets of Stormwind in lockstep. They knew that as humans they would not attract attention while getting in the City, to reach their destination however the skills of a professional thief were required, or that of an assassin. A day had passed since the unbelievable news of the destruction of the Firelands had reached the eastern Kingdoms. One name was hushed with animosity: Roth. A man with control over insectoid creatures so terrible not even the dragons themselves had been able to defeat them one millennium ago. Lavina wondered who this wildcard was and what motivation drove him, but at the moment she could not allow herself to be distracted – or could she?

Along with a handful of patrolling guards Master Wood was standing guard right outside the relocated SI:7 Headquarters. Stormwind Intelligence had brought forth some of Azeroth's most capable Spies and Assassins. She knew very well that inside a number of skilled guards were waiting in ambush for anyone foolish enough to enter this den of deceit. But she also knew that in an hour an unscheduled shift of guards would occur leaving her and Derrick roughly ten minutes to accomplish their mission here. Until then, she knew exactly where she wanted to go.

"Let's meet in front of the bank, ten minutes before the guard shift, keep yourself busy until then, but be discreet" she ordered without looking at him and left him confused where he stood.

Lavina moved slowly when she entered Stormwinds Graveyard. She looked around, but could see no one grieving, almost unbelievable considering the amount of lives claimed by the Cataclysm by now. But she was glad she was alone. Her feet moved carefully over the cobblestone paving the way to countless graves before her, almost as if she was afraid of disturbing the ones who rested

here.

Before long she had reached her destination. A number of graves, placed right next to a great Tree.

There was a slight breeze playing with its leaves, while the first stars peered through the encroaching darkness the sun battled in vain. It became colder. And would have been not for the grazed clock tower reminding her it was time to leave. The night slowly but surely crept towards the graves, until finally they reached the pair Lavina had visited. One could read Lavina Runetouch on the left one and Roy Olmstead on the right one.

_A day before…_

It was strange. Saxia had not heard from Roth ever since he reached Hyial. She knew defeating the Firelord and his Armies would take time, but he would have kept her informed, exactly because it was at such an important moment in time. Getting into Hyial undetected by the greens was no easy feat, but she prided herself in her elusiveness. She was close now, close to the portal of the firelands. It was perched atop a small hill, two trees arching together, creating a circle.

She gasped in surprise at what she beheld: Dozens of Elves scurrying all around the Portal for some indiscernible reason. Saxia was sure now that something unforeseen had unfolded, assuring her that it was the right decision to check up on things herself.

She landed quite a distance away, careful not to be seen by the cautious eyes of the Elfen guards.

After she had made certain no one had noticed her, she changed her form, taking the shape of a night elfen woman, clad in the colours of the Guardians of Hyial.

The pain had only lasted for the fraction of a second. Roth found himself on the ground.

His eyes would not open, yet his other senses delivered clues to his whereabouts.

He could smell the earth, raw and untainted, free of the touch mortals and monsters alike. Monsters like him. His fingers dug deep into the moist ground, slowly, without any sense of urgency.

His mind could not fathom what was transpiring, but he knew not to worry, for it would soon make sense to his tired mind.

He opened his eyes, not at all surprised at the trees sprouting like needles into the sky, blocking night and stars with mighty crowns of leaves. He turned on the ground to push himself to his feet.

He was weak and his footing without balance.

Was anybody there?

A Goat watched him from afar.

He began to move in the hopes of leaving the forest.

Saxia was only a few steps away now. The druids around her did not mind at all, no they did not notice. Only one step now…

"Were do you think you're going?" A tall night elf stopped her, waving his arm threatingly.

Saxia thought for a frantic second then answered with a subservient tone:" I was told to help look for survivors who might be lost, after all the firelands huge and without water one is surely doomed. Please someone I know is on the other side I just have to meet him." The nightelf could hear a plea in her voice and worry on her face. His strained face became softer and his gaze lost his suspicion and gave way to pained and sorrowful expression.

"Maybe…" He began slowly "It is best you go back to your previous post, the one who sent must not have heard… no you should go.

"Why?" Saxia raised a brow, completely dropping her act, an expression of genuine interest now on her face.

"It is hard to make you understand with words…" He tried to explain, but lost heart looking at her, unwilling to tell her the truth.

"If you really cared about this person then…"

"Then I have to go" She assessed firmly, and took another step.

The portal on the other side was scorched and brittle, but alive. The only thing that still was.

Before Saxia a Wasteland streched to the horizon. The air was brimming with sulfur.

Great Pillars of ash reached for the blackened Sky. Countless fires still burned, staring through the black smoke like eyes. Saxia gasped, then froze.

The night was dark, but the forest was bright. It was alive. At least it had been for as far as Roth could discern. With every step he took deeper through bush and roots he noticed barren spots, free of live and tainted.

Then he saw her.

A slender figure, undoubtedly female sat at a small pond.

Roth could not see her clearly because she was half hidden behind a tall tree, but he made out golden ornaments on her robe. The robe itself bore a several shades of green and was wrapped around her body tightly. Her head hang low over the water surface and Roth noted a band covering her eyes.

He approached carefully not wanting to alert her.

Then a Tall figure stepped into view, until then hidden behind the tree from Roths eyes.

The figure had an imposing male physique, with broad shoulders and long hair.

Roth stopped and noticed two bodies lying on the ground right next to the two.

All four of them, both dead and alive were elves.

The woman reached into the water, while the man behind her placed his hands around her neck.

She pulled something from the deeps, another corpse, holding his face just above the water surface, the rest still submerged. Was she crying? Roth was not sure what to make of it, but he was sure the third corpse was not elven, in fact it looked human to him. Then water splashed violently and the human corpse grabbed the Elf holding the woman in a stranglehold. He freed her from his grasp and then turned to Roth.

Roth Immediately recognized him.


	20. Chapter 20

Derrick and Lavina infiltrated the SI:7 Headquarters without a problem. After the Guards inside had left, all they had to do was sneak past Master Wood. The seasoned warrior was certainly dangerous, but only if he had caught them. As soon as both had entered, they rushed to work. They both started to frantically search for hidden doors and documents on the upper floor. Mathias Shaw's desk was their first victim. Carelessly they knocked over priceless books and quickly glanced over sprawled out documents in their search.

"This is pointless!" Derrick exclaimed exasperated. "As if we're going to find anything relating to _him _in this mess. We need more time."

While Derrick gave his displeasure voice, Lavina had stopped her aimless quest.

"_This much is probably enough" _She thought to herself and reached for a little bottle on one of the nearby shelves. She turned it in her hand, while Derrick still frantically searched Mathias desk.

Lavina could make out the small silhouette of parchment within, then she held the bottle into the air and smashed it to the ground. Startled by the breaking glass Derricks head jerked up and he looked at her Quizzically.

"Are you mad? We have only a few minutes left and you start vandalizing this place! Help me search!"

"We're done" Lavina said while kneeling down to regard the broken glass more thorough.

"But we haven't found anything" Derrick protested, but Lavina waved him over to her while reaching for a small piece of pergament between the glass shards he had not noticed before.

She opened the small pergament roll for a brief moment, scanning its content quickly with her eyes, then lending it to him. He quickly read its content himself and looked at her with a devilish grin.

" I'll be damned, I didn't think we would find it on the first try"

Saxia had found him. His otherworldly presence was faint, but definitely, there. She transformed into her true form: A petit and agile Blackdrake. She had to fly quite a distance to reach the place his aura originated from.

Between towering clouds of smoke and wild infernos, still burning, she found him. Half buried within the smoldering ground, his dark figure illuminated by it's orange hue. His true form was enormous and dwarfed her in her drake form by far. He looked different than she remembered him. The wallowing cloak of darkness which usually covered his entire body was almost entirely gone. This was the first time she beheld his actual physical appearance beneath. He was abhorrent to look at so much Saxia felt revolted. He was slender, his skin a sickly white and green. Small deformations were scattered about his body surface. She could see eyes of different shapes and sizes on his arms and torso. They were lidless, swelled black globes, looking lifeless at the world around.

Grotesque maws also covered his skin with feral teeth protruding from within.

His face almost looked human, at least its shape. His eyes were human, except for their red glow. Frightening was also his mouth. It showed no discernable lip; instead it had an almost skeleton like look, with large abominable sharp teeth. His "mouth" was also several times larger, not stopping at his cheeks but reaching much further. Roth looked as if someone hat cut his mouth open with an immense blade and replaced his teeth with thorns. His hair was a wave of white, dancing eerily above his head like tentacles. Saxia was disgusted and shocked by the fear his horrific appearance triggered within her.

She landed just a short distance from him on the charred ground, close enough for him to reach her with his claw like hands.

As she looked at him she noticed his red glowing eyes starring off into the distance. But they were not focused on anything. They did not register anything.

When she called out to him, he needed a moment until he realized where he was and who was talking to him. It seemed to her as though he was awakening from a deep slumber. As if he had been dreaming and was not sure if he was already back in reality or still trapped to watch Illusions unfold in front of his minds eye.

"What happened here" Saxia asked slowly.

"They tricked me" Roth said indifferent while inspecting his left arm. It was charred black, with violet glowing cracks spread indtricately on it's surface. "Somehow they interfered with the flow of leylines in the firelands." He continued and lifted his head to the sky. The explosion had ejected thousands of tons of rubble into the air, clouding it in dust and ash. It was pitch black to him but it should not be. He was able to see leylines with his bare eye. But he could not see the great web like structures he usually beheld when looking up. Neither could he feel the familiar aura of arcane energy they emitted. They were gone.

"Ragnaros was already defeated so they had nothing left to lose, it was a rigged game from the beginning" Roth reasoned.

"So they were after your life, weren't they?" Saxia concluded, while looking around at the devastation wrought.

"I wasn't able to make out anything else beside you, they destroyed everything."

She continued.

"This is problematic, but not surprising. I only survived by displacing myself at the last second" Roth commented with his deep alien and not at all human voice. He glanced to his crippled left arm and added:" I was not fast enough to escape the explosion completely however" He turned to look at Saxia, whose yellow reptilian eyes were still fixated on him.

"I had intended for the Anubisath and Qiraji I lost here to get me Omega from Northrend. I need a trump card."

"Why not just send some leftovers from silithus?" She argued.

"No, that would take too long, after I got the device I still need time to unravel how it works, otherwise it is useless. After what happened here it is clear that the old ones have accelerated their plans, they will pit Neltharion against me as soon as they can. Time is running out." He countered immediately.

"Then how will you-" Saxia began, but was cut short by him again. "You go" He decided plainly.

Saxia was visibly taken aback. She however composed herself quickly and gazed into his eyes, spite written all over her face. "I won't, after all this isn't what we had agreed upon!"

She spat.

"I've found him, you'll get what you want" He said imploringly, while slowly moving his grotesque face closer to her. She noticed the countless sharp teeth, his skull showed of impressively.

"Then tell me where he is!" Saxia spoke her voice still stern.

"I won't, you go and get me Omega, meanwhile I will get you that whelp, there are also a few other things I need to take care of" Roth said with a tone which suggested he was done arguing with her.

Saxia however would not allow herself to be told off like this, after all she had held true to her end of their bargain. "Why don't you get Omega yourself and let me know where he is, then we can part ways like we planned." She said softly but resolute.

"If I go myself the old gods will get suspicious, after all their gaze is upon me almost constantly, I can't take that risk, especially not after what happened here, there are a few things I have to look into while I am still on Kalimdor" He explained.

He lied. Every cell of her being told Saxia that he was just playing with her. She knew very well that Roth could get Omega without anyone noticing, not even the old gods. He could also do it much faster than her, if it really played such a pivotal role. What was this other business he had to deal with? He had not told her. This meant he did not want to let her go just yet, but continue to use her. The notion he might never had intended to just give her what she wanted unsettled her to no end.

But she had no choice, not after all the risk she had taken.


	21. Chapter 21

After Saxia had left, Roth took another look at the destruction, which had been wrought around him, all the while shrinking to his human form. His eyes were bored and tired. His left hand twitched slightly while he contemplated the fantastic ruin.

He kneeled down to observe the destroyed earth closer. He dug his fingers deep into the earth and lifted a handful into the air. Black was his hand now, and he let the earth trickle slowly from his grasp. The earth was dead. Before it had been ash, burning and lifeless to the layman, but in fact rich in what constituted live.

Ragnaros phrase "By fire be purged" was not just an idle threat, but in fact the most basic truth about the element he controlled. With fire one can destroy and devastate, but cleanse corruption at the same time and make way for new life. But there was none left here now and there would not be until the arcane powers that tainted this land finally stopped to linger. An immense power had turned hundreds of mortal champions into dust, extinguished their lives in the time one needs to take a breath.

And he smiled, his body twisted and shivered until finally he gave way. His eyes filled with glee and he threw his head back and laughed to his black hearts content. „Wonderful! This is how it should be, how it must be! Just when I got bored plowing through their vermin." He exclaimed ecstatically.

His outburst ended as sudden as it had started. Soon he was composed again.

His eyes and stare cold, no _dead_.

_Betrayed his eyes defeat? Shock and contempt for his failure to save those who had come to protect their World from a Power so great as to be immeasurable?_

Something caught his attention. The presence of arcane had left; the leylines had been completely destroyed in the explosion. But he could still feel something. It was faint even fainter than the tiniest spell, but still he could feel a trace of arcane waving through the air.

And so he gave chase.

_Sometime three years ago_

* * *

><p>Summer in Elwynn meant rushing waterfalls, lush bushes and tranquil glades.<p>

Framed was the great human Forest by a mighty river to the south, and the northern mountains. Perched between those mountains sat Stormwind proudly.

Rain was normal during the summer, providing the farmers with fertile land for months to come. The sun stood high, drying the leaves from the latest rain shower. Under one of the countless trees two figures started peering from underneath the tent of leaves. Together they had searched shelter underneath, when the sky had suddenly started pouring down on them.

"I think sacrifices are sometimes unavoidable" Lavina asserted firmly.

Roy was taken aback how blunt she had answered his inquiry.

Only recently had he met this young girl, when they had been partnered together by orphan Matron Nightingale to organize the children's week for the young.

It was custom for all those who had once been in the care of the Orphanage to participate during the event for guidance.

Roy had warmed up to her immediately during the days they worked as a team and had hoped to see her more often afterwards.

For weeks thereafter he had been too indecisive to casually follow up on his juvenile feelings.

But to him it seemed as though fortune was his, seeing how coincidentally they had met.

"That's awfully cold, don't you think a King should be focused on saving everyone?" He responded faking shock.

"You really like to think like that don't you? But a World where you can keep everyone from harm does not exist, only in your mind maybe. And that there is something wrong with your mind, we established a while ago didn't we? Remember how you put Richelle on one of the Sabers in Darnassus to show her they are nothing to be afraid of?

Not at all convinced, Roy just crossed his arms and nodded for her to continue.

Truly a tribute to your wisdom concering children. And an example of extraordinary diplomacy, we're lucky if the guards let us take the children to Darnassus next year again. She grinned, enjoying to call him out on his foolishness.

"The Elves just need to get rid of that giant stick up their ass, talking about the "sacred bond" between Rider and Saber." He said, opening his arms, as though he had just addressed the true problem.

"Maybe the World really is strange, for allowing you to act like this without even the slightest hint of shame on your face." Lavina said, with disappointment, mocking him further.

"What good did shame do anybody ever?" He deflected, teasing her.

"I think if you had any you would see a little clearer and were a bit more… _modest_, it would do you a World of good."

"And how would that be fun?" He smiled devilishly.

Lavina, finally losing interest in their little spat, turned on her feet and left in direction of Stormwind.

In the weeks following Roy created one "chance meeting" after another with Lavina.

Meeting her out in the forest had given him the push he needed, the incentive to follow through with what he had in mind.

Lucky for him Lavina did not seem immune to his more obvious advances.

_Now_

* * *

><p>Roth followed the trail of arcane out of the Firelands.<p>

It was child's play for him to leave unnoticed by the increasing number of Nightelves investigating what had transpired here.

It took him however several hours to track the magic to its place of origin.

While he had been roaming the sky's above Kalimdor as a ominous black haze, he had picked up on something new.

Where he was headed _something else _dwelled, something eerily familiar, yet unknown to his mind.

A tinge of orange started to stain the heavy hung clouds of the night.

The first rays of a new day warmed the air.

But it did not warm him.

His eyes were still clouded, shrouded in darkness.

Once more he saw the last moment in his _life._

And he heard the whispers, the whispers that told him what was painfully obvious.

"You have changed **nothing**!"

As long as the wings of death ran rampant none of this little side play of his would have born any fruit.

His abominable fathers had also started to take him seriously.

He needed to win. There was no meaning in doing anything if he started to waver now.

Whatever little toy they had conjured up that was powerful enough to destroy the Firelands and ravage the Leylines, it was not enough to kill him.

If anything he felt alive again for the first time in the better part of a year.

How long had been, since last he had trembled with excitement?

Reminded of the chaotic years which had left him wanting death, he could not stop himself from feeling glee at the way things were turning out.

Just picturing how he would slaughter their pathetic servants and thwart their demented horrific dreams made him giggle inside his mind. As long as he kept on laughing it was easy to block out their mad whispers.

_How they gloated over his schemes._

Once Deathwing was dealt with, Roth would delight in whispering to them_ "I'm impressed how close you came this time, but now it is time for you to go back to sleep" _he would make them grovel in defeat before him, just as they made him choke on his own blood.

His godly senses soon drove him to a spire of evil, within the deserted sands of Desolace.

Maraudon - the contemptible birthplace of the Centaur race.

The immense rock formation had an opening, which lead into the very heart of its cavernous deeps. Roth could see a stone platform within, surrounded by water. Atop an enormous construct was erected. It looked as though a delicate conglomeration of star systems. Blue rings and loose shards of arcane moved on seemingly random, invisible pathways. At its very center it was just a haze of evaporating magic, given no distinct form. A dozen of robed mortals scurried around the apparatus. Roth stretched out his arm, summoning the arcane within the device to move at his will. A sting in his left stopped his spell. He took a look at his left hand, still a mass of flayed flesh, and realized the arcane explosion had not just crippled him, but impaired his ability to use arcane magic. Immediately he chose another course of action. If he could not control it directly, he would destroy it at once.

He was only delayed for a second by the failure of casting arcane magic. Yet below one of the robed figures had taken notice to the small flash of arcane.

The others turned their heads upward and panicked.

Roths hand brimmed with shadow magic, he did not care for casualties, in fact he welcomed the collateral damage. A ray of gleaming shadow rushed from his hand to shatter the construct. Midway through its journey the shadow magic was halted however and then dispersed into thin air. Roth's eyes narrowed when he detected the one responsible. A figure cloaked from head to toe in black had emerged from the crowd of mortals underneath.

Instead of losing the initiative again, Roth decided to attack in a more tangible manner. He bore forth a tentacle of immense size with spikes all along its surface. The tentacle reached below at amazing speed and shattered the platform altogether. Those who had dwelled upon, were flung around violently and either met their end at one of the caverns walls or were lucky enough to land in the water to then be skewered by Krokolisks. Roth had failed however. The one who had stopped his dark spell earlier had teleported himself with the entirety of the arcane device before he had reached it. A feat impossible for a mere mortal.

There should not be a mortal capable of countering his magic, nor capable of teleporting so much mass at short notice.

Roth levitated downward until his feet touched the surface of the disturbed waters below. A surviving cultist nearby tried to stay above water, while fending of a Krokolisk with a spell. Roth reached for him and effortlessly pulled him to within an inch of his face.

"You will tell me everything" He stated while his eyes turned red.


	22. Chapter 22

**Sorry it took so long to post this. I moved over christmas and had to deal with studies until then. **

* * *

><p>Demonic activity in Mannoroc's coven was one of the greatest on all of Azeroth.<p>

However another darkness had befallen the tainted grounds of this purgatory like place, shortly after the first rays of light signaled the beginning of a new day.

Roth played with one of the blue rings of the cultist's arcane device, while trying to pick up its specific arcane pattern. However he felt nothing. He was not sure whether they suddenly became able to mask its traces from his senses or they just stopped using it for the moment. Maybe it just was no longer on Kalimdor. With a powerful weapon like this at their disposal it was only a matter of time until they tried again to kill him. If not the next logical step was crushing his army. Ahn'qiraj had no strategic value to him, the back up Silithid he was growing in the Highlands however were necessary for the final assault on Deathwing.

He knew however that there was no point in going right away to mobilize them.

There was no way of stopping the device without knowing its whereabouts and judging from its first usage it had an immense range.

Roth stretched his arm and tapped into the divine darkness within him.

He tore down the barriers of reality before him, drawing a great black box out of thin air. Roth summoned his sword and pressed it into the device, prompting it to open and lay bare its content. A gargantuan skull became visible, its features demonic.

Roth kneeled down pressing his hand against the ground.

His form became distorted by shadow energies, which then went on to burn runes into the soil surrounding the black box.

He stood up, now raising his arms, heaving the very ground under the box into the air.

With his mind he erected towers of stone all around the vicinity and summoned countless tentacles with bulging eyes at their ends. At once they went to work on the towers inscribing them with their flaying beams in an alien language.

When they were finished he retrieved his blade from the box and cut his own flesh.

His tainted blood fell to the ground activating the runes burned into the soil.

But before he could take the next step in his ritual the clapping of immense wings drew his attention to the skies.

_Dragons._

A dozen of them.

Not just drakes, barely a century old, but great Wyrms. Powerful _and_ wise_._

They were a colorful bunch, three of every kind.

They landed all around him effectively surrounding him.

Right in front of him a great Red landed. The old Wyrm seemed to be their appointed Leader.

He did not address the young god before him, instead he glanced over to the box and its ghastly content. His reptilian eyes narrowed. He raised his head and opened his wings.

A pathetic show of power Roth noted.

"It seems the Aspects unease was warranted, a fool trifling with powers no creature of good intentions should aspire to control.

A younger Blue added: "What did you expect Valistrasz, he keeps a black dragon as his company and Qiraji as his pets" the young drake flared her nostrils as a threat while presenting Roth her impressive array of dagger like teeth.

Roth's voice was low and his words came slowly, mocking the absolute certainty of their content.

"At any other time I might have had enough patience to cater to your pride as supposed protectors of the mortal realms. But even in your delusions of grandeur you surely realize the time of dragons has long since passed. Stand down and I will not have to see myself forced to slaughter you lot."

Valistrasz narrowed his eyes but remained silent. The blue drake however spoke up enraged:" How dare you insult the legacy the Creators left us. How dare you threaten us with death. If not for us your mortal realms would have long since descended into ruin!"

"It seems to me as though the only reason I have to act presently is because one of your kind, an Aspect no less, makes sport of extinguishing any non draconic life on this planet. Apparently the Titans failed both: their creation and their lap dogs."

Roth retorted with obvious disinterest.

"My breath is wasted on someone like you. Just listen to this fool Valistrasz, we have Jarod's testimony that he broke into the firelands shortly before it vanished in arcane fire! And now we catch him trying to resurrect a demon at this revolting place! Even if he is not an agent of the old gods as I maintain he is, he is at least not someone to be trusted. And does he make a secret of his disdain for all of us? For our charge, our duty?"

Valistrasz seemed to ponder for a moment, his large eyes staring into the distance, eyes which had seen the coming and passing of millennia, of ages, before he focused his gaze once more on Roth.

"Even if there is no involvement on your part concerning the events which transpired within the firelands, we cannot let an entity like yourself roam free during these trying times. Detain him." The Red Dragon ordered, prompting his companions to close in on Roth.

The young blue drake smirked as much as she could given her serpentine head. Roth could see the gleaming of blue flames between her teeth.

Casually he drew his black blade.

Saxia stopped several times while she was still flying over Kalimdor.

She had been hunting game in Mulgore and later took a few great sips of water from one of Azshara's waterfalls.

She took her time while she could, for the great sea between Kalimdor and the frozen continent was a vast surface without a place to rest for a dragon.

The sun was already sinking beneath the horizon, burying itself so it seemed to Saxia underneath the ocean. She increased the steady flapping of her wings now, to leave the sea behind her as fast as she could. The moon was obscured by a great accumulation of clouds, leaving her to the darkness of the night. Now and then she would glance upward to see one or two brave stars blinking through the haze of darkness above her, illuminating the ocean of black underneath her. If she were to loose the strength to fly, she would undoubtedly plunge into it, never to be seen again.

Unsettled by these thoughts, she gained flight steadily for a time until she felt she was a safe distance from the dark void beneath.

The sun already stood high, when Saxia finally beheld the edges of Northrend.

Soon she felt the icy currents emanating from the great white glaciers surrounding the ceiling of the World. She landed in one of the continents many fjords, leading into the great see. Once she had concluded there was nothing around capable to harm a dragon, she layed herself flat on the ground, shielding herself from the stabbing cold with her wings.

As soon as she was rested, she took to the sky again. With a few powerful strikes of her wings the crevice, which had sheltered her from excessive cold, was little more than a jagged line between two glaciers.

Saxia was headed now directly for the farthest part of the frozen continent.

Ulduar, once thought to be a titan research facility, was something much more terrifying. A prison, a cage for an ancient evil. Saxia reminded herself that the creature with whom she had struck a deal was its spawn. The son of the old gods. In a sense she was doing nothing different from any other black dragon.

The black dragons had served the old gods for a long time already, atleast for ten-thousand years. The dawn of Blackwings betrayal had ushered in a new age for the black dragonflight. An age of slaughter, plunder and dragonic supremacy. Deathwing had doomed his entire flight for power. She was revolted everytime she thought about it, disgusted at what he had made them, what she very nearly had become, had she not grown up in outland. She had been the last viable hatchling of one of the last black broodmothers. Sintharia had invested everything she had into making sure all black dragon eggs that had survived Gruul's infanticide would fall under the sway of the old gods. But not Saxia, she had been spared.

Free from the old gods maddening thoughts she would give her all to restore the black dragons to what they once were.

Dragon blood stained the dead ground of Mannorocs coven.

The battle had been swift and ruthless.

Valistrasz and his dragons had given it their all, but they were no match for a god.

"Tell me your name dragon" Roth addressed the young blue drake lying before him.

Roth bend down on one knee while putting away his blade.

A lazy yellow eye fixated on him.

Her great maw opened and closed slowly without uttering a word.

She looked him in the eye and he held her gaze. They remained like this for while before her gaze went dim and lifeless.

Roth stood up and resumed his summoning.

The runes beneath him had lost their glow, so he once again cut his flesh and let his blood fuel the intricate carvings.

The demonic remains before him where engulfed by green flames, slowly they fed until they suddenly spiked high into the sky like a pillar of light. Roth raised his hands, prompting the spikes he had raised in a circle to glow with strange letters.

As if ordered the demonic fire took a humanoid shape. It was an immense hulking figure, its size was so great the draconic bodies around it looked like lizards in comparison to a small child. Roth summoned a mass of tentacles around the inferno, which shackled it at feet, wrists and neck. As though poisoned by their touch, the fire changed its colour to a red and finally black. A violet skin began to grow on the Giant, containing the demonic rage within.

"It's time I grant you life once more, Kazzak" Roth addressed the Hulking figure with audible contempt "Reborn as my puppet you will serve".

_Sometime three years ago _

Their lips only touched for a fraction of a second. It was an awkward kiss, but the first almost always was. It served as a template for all following, and as reference.

Lavina was not shy, not in the least, putting him instantly at a disatvantage.

He was amazed how dominant this little girl suddenly appeared to him.

She took the lead so easily. He had been mid sentenc, when she had just taken his hand pulled him into one of the many alleyways of stormwinds old town district.

Chest to chest they stood now in the twilight of a dying day, breathing heavily.

They kissed again, but this time did not break contact so quickly. Instead they explored one another longer. Lavina's eyes fluttered upward, meeting his and he could see her passion change into curiosity. Suddenly he realized they were embracing one another. It had happened so naturally he had not been aware. He could feel his hands on her slender back, her deliacte fingers on his. She broke his glance and put her head on his chest. They remained like this until the last rays of light faded.

_Now_

Ravenholdt was a well hidden and protected fort. Some of Azeroths most feared Assasines had once been a member of this shadowy organization. Others still were to this day.

Lavina knew that infiltrating this Rogue guild would be the true test of fire, afterall Derrick and her had known exactly when guards would switch when they broke into the SI:7 Headquarters.

But this time there was no help from the inside.

Both would have to rely on their experience and skills to succeed and it was that fact which made her anxious beyond comparison. Not because she doubted her own abilities, but rather because she had to trust her partner's.

Lavina and Derrick had to use their tracking skills to find the right path between the countless small tracks, which were scattered throughout the hills of Hillsbrad.

Once they had passed a cavern brimming with deadly traps, Lavina felt sure they were on the right trail.

Ravenholdt manor lay deserted between the mountains.

Signs of battle were everywhere. Blood, flaming craters but no bodies, except that of a red wyrm.

The assassins exchanged a quick glance, then decided to move inside.

There was not a single soul to be seen. Lavina's mind raced at amazing speed, anticipating a trap at every turn, but no matter how often she looked behind her or peeked around a corner she could not see anyone.

"Do you think they moved him after the reds tried to kill him?" Derrick asked, his eyes alert.

"I have no idea, but it would be the logical thing to do" She answered truthfully.

Carefully they searched every room until they arrived at the basement.

They opened the door daggers in hand, ready to strike. They had ambushed two men standing inside, both had stopped speaking when the two cult assassins had burst inside. One of them was a young man, clad in an exotic royal uniform and a turban. He had brown skin and red eyes.

He was handsome, not much younger than Lavina herself and contemplated both her and Derrick with caution.

"Today strange characters just come out of every wood work don't they" He did not seem to address Lavina but the figure next to him, all the while maintaining eye contact with her.

"It is no coincidence Wrathion" The other man spoke. Lavina's attention switched to him. He was also young, his eyes a pale blue as if the colour had been drained. He wore a black coat, his hair grey like ash. He looked tired or atleast very much disinterested in anything that was going around him, almost as if he was merely a spectator not at all part of the room's occupants. An uneasy feeling had taken hold of Lavina but she could not quite place why.

He turned to Lavina and their eyes met.

Roth immediately recognized the young woman, clad completely in black leather boots, thigh high stockings and chest piece with sleeves. Her face was obscured by a ash coloured mask with no features besides two holes for eyesockets. For a mortal it was impossible to identifier her underneath, but he was no mortal. The two sharp twin daggers in her hand and her stance revealed she was ready to kill.

Derrick, clad in a male version of Lavina's assassin attire, threw a little brown ball into the air, which exploded into light. He and Lavina covered their eyes and rushed forward while the other two were blinded.

She drew her blades and she lashed forward intent on killing the unkown man first.

Roth just reached through the glimmer of dancing blades before him and grabbed her throat, then lifted her into the air while choking her. Derrick screamed furiously and threw both of his daggers, one of them penetrated Roth's arm, the other gouged into his left eye. Lavina herself stabbed him in the neck with her left blade and in his chest with the other. Blood poured forth, but only a weak stream. It was a dark ooze, just barely a hint of red within the almost pitch black liquid. But Roth did not move, he looked her in the eye with his remaining one.

He opened his mouth, while watching Lavina's horror at his seeming immortality

"It did not work the first time, three years ago. What makes you think it will work now?"

He smirked smug, while the blades slowly slid out of him and landed on the floor each with an audible clunk. He slowly let her go, her legs gave way and she fell to her knees while staring up to him in disbelief, realization dawning on her face.

„You have forgotten me haven't you? " He asked the girl passively. „But I, I remember you" His voice was incredibly hushed, his words merely an excited hiss now. Roth's face had taken on a feral smile while he had spoken. He leaned backwards. It seemed as though he was growing. Lavina could merely make out his outlines now, against the light behind him. The rest of him lay in impenetrable darkness. He was pitch black.

"The red's are not the only ones who want to see you dead it seems" Roth told Wrathion while turning his head to him. Roth closed his right hand smashed against thin air behind him. Instead of hitting _nothing _however he hit _something_.

The barriers of reality broke down behind him, a blue and red glowing vortex revealed itself. It rushed so fiercely as to cause a deafening wind within the small room. The air brimmed with dark magic.

"Enter" Roth ordered.

Wrathion was reluctant and as a result asked:" Where does this portal lead to"

"Nowhere" Roth stated and pushed him inside.

The vortex vanished without a sound and the air calmed.

"You… but that is impossible, I watched you die" Lavina stammered in disbelief.

"What is going on?" Derrick demanded drawing Roth's attention.

"He is…" Lavina began, but stopped mid sentence, as she watched Derrick getting ripped apart by magic. "…no longer important" Roth finished her sentence, while lowering his finger.

Blood danced in the air between them. Time stood still. Lavina could see the individual drops rotating, but they weren't what she was focused on. All she was paying attention to was Roth, standing infront of her. He was absolutely still, his head was tilted slightly to the ground, just enough to let his hair dangle down into his face, obscuring his eyes.

He had an unsettling smile on his face. It was evil she tought to herself. He seemed completely uncaring. Relishing in the moment.

She knew why.

She had broken him, changed him.

No, that was not exactly true. She had _killed _him. Roy was dead. This was not him, not anymore. The Roy she knew had died three years ago in agony on the first floor of her own house.


	23. Chapter 23

_Some time two years ago_

Once again she found herself kneeling on the floor. She forced herself to vomit repeatedly. It was not comfortable, but she had no choice, unless she wanted to let the poison fulfil its intended purpose.

Lavina remembered the disbelief in his eyes.

The shock.

All the terrible little emotions that had fought one another within him had manifested on his face, just before his eyes betrayed his resignation from this world. She had seen the moment in which he had realized he would die.

His facial expression had changed.

He had regarded her with little more than detached animosity.

She wondered, had he been disgusted with her?

Would he have understood if he knew why she had to kill him?

To infiltrate the Twilight Hammer.

She had succeeded.

Her loyalties had always been with Stormwind. That would never change.

She had sacrificed Roy for this chance.

From an objective point of view his life was nothing compared to the lives she could protect, by the information she intended to gather.

This she told herself over and over, to ease the guilt she was feeling underneath her mask of indifference.

Exploiting his trust had made it all to easy to murder him. Only now after he was gone realised she these feelings she had had for him. It was love. Love was not pure like she had thought. It was domineering, selfish and ugly. Poetry about love was nothing more than wishful thinking, written by comfortable self-deluded fools. Realizing she loved him destroyed her. Without knowing she had thrown away a chance at happiness for loyalty.

She remembered the smile on his face when she had dealt her first blow.

Honest and happy not at all like the smiles she saw nowadays.

They were smiles in anticipation of absolute wickedness.

_Now_

Roth enjoyed the myriad of emotions in Lavina's face. He could discern disbelief – _understandable_, after all she had seen him die. Fear was another and most _delightful _at that_. _He could almost taste it on his tongue. But the one he savoured the most was **shock**. She was utterly incapable of dealing with this development.

_Finally _he thought. All the months he had spent in love with this woman, she had pulled strings on him, controlled him. She had anticipated his thoughts and feelings to take advantage of them in the right moment.

He had played a rigged game and paid with his life as a result.

This time he was making the rules and fate had dealt her a bad hand.

His hand moved toward her face, her beautiful and confused face.

Killing her now would surely feel unimaginably wonderful. This woman had set of a spiral of madness within him that destroyed his human identity. She was responsible for everything he was right now.

This abomination that hungered for chaos. He wanted to rape her, to disembowel her like a pig. Spill her guts on the floor and devour her while she was still conscious. There was no need to rush things however. He had waited for three years for this moment, what where a few minutes more to him?

„Was it worth it to become a toy for the old gods Lavina. A whore for the cult. Do you enjoy what they have made Deathwing do to this world?" Roth asked mockingly „Is it fun helping to undo this world bit by bit. To see the future of this world turn into a nightmare?" He asked with a smile but his eyes betrayed not a question but an accusation.

Slowly Lavina came to her senses. This was not the time to be paralyzed by fear. If she told him the truth he would surely understand, would he not?

Doubt started to spread within her body. Made the truth a difference to him?

If he knew it was nothing personal, but a mission given to her from Stormwinds Master spy Mathias Shaw himself?

_Three years ago_

They stood at the corner, barely noticeable against the immense stream of people passing through Stormwinds trading district. Matthias wore a hood, pulled deep into his face so as not to arouse attention. Lavina leaned against the stonewall of a nearby food shop. Her eyes were fixated on a boy with brown hair and blue eyes. He looked unassuming in his brown leader trousers and white cloth Jersey. He was plain looking, his lowly origin apparent. An orphan like herself. This fact provided her both with an opportunity for interaction and assurance he would not be missed.

_Now_

„I will tell you everything!" Lavina yelled with confidence. „You can do with me what you will after I am finished, but at least hear me out"

„You do not have to say a thing, I can just ask your soul directly after I have torn it from your flesh". Roth's verdict was death.

Gently he stroked her face. He looked deep into those eyes, which had been infinity to him, and he felt the tingle of black magic at his fingers.

He would suck her soul from her body and imprison it in his mind.

There he could orchestrate a world of never ending pain upon her.

And only when her sanity had been shattered, her personality eradicated, would he relinquish ownership of her soul and let her wander the spirit world forever.

Suddenly her stomach bulged and her chest was ripped open. Lavina's body tensed then went rigid. Blood was sprinkled on Roths face. His eyes widened. A claw like hand had ripped through Lavina.

She looked at Roth her eyes trembling with fear and agony.

A stream of blood slowly crawled over her lips and down her chin while she tried to form words.

„The...Truth" She uttered barely audible before her body went limp.

Her eyes were no longer focused on him. They just stared blankly through him. What was the last thing she thought he wondered. What was the last thing she saw? Was it him?

She wanted truth to be the last thing he heard. It must have been the most important thing for her. He could not disagree more with that sentiment.

This world is nothing more than illusion. A conglomeration of incompatible notions. Words are removed from their original meaning. Language itself is a lie.

But people have forgotten _that _truth and so they keep on lying. Objective truth can never be expressed through words nor actions, because everyone sees them different, measures them according to themselves. He had long since given up on truth, for it has become irrelevant for those living in this lie. He knew she would be blessed with truth once those beautiful auburn eyes lost their light.

He could feel her presence disperse. She was gone. But he would continue to exist, forever product of her actions. Unknowingly she had built herself an eternal temple in his consciousness. The dead man immortal through death.

The murderer destroyed through sin. Please do not leave, he thought. With her departure he became an effect without cause. A paradox without purpose.

Without hesitation Roth drew his blade and cut down Lavinas murderer.

He slashed horizontally, slicing through Lavinas corpse at the waist to get at the figure behind her.

But his blade never cut anything other than Lavinas flesh; his blade greedily absorbed some of her blood.

Her murderer had changed into an ethereal form, which had caused Roth's attack to just move through him.

Lavinas dismembered body splattered to floor.

„I did not realize there were more of us," Roth stated.

His surroundings turned into a surreal spiel of dark.

Their essence was tearing reality apart.

Walls turned into bulging and crawling conglomerations of black and red.

So this was how it was going to end Roth thought.

His form grew dark and a haze of black oozed from him onto the floor.

Eyes, merely dots of red started to peer through from within the nebular.

His opponent materialized again. He wore a black coat, with a hood pulled over his head to hide his face.

„You were really close to breaking my toy when you came to Maraudon. But it seems the firelands left their mark on you" He gestured to Roth's left arm.

„That is why I felt the need to try to break one of your toys" He gestured to the heap of flesh Lavina used to be.

„It seems I was more successful than you, and you had the bigger target" He smirked. Roth could not see it, but he knew.

„Why don't you start by introducing yourself" Roth suggested.

„Indeed I should" the man replied removing his hood to reveal his face.

„Then again I feel it redundant to introduce me to myself"

A twin, did they create more than just him? But Roth knew. This was not a brother of his. A copy perhaps? Just as unlikely. The old gods had not the power to create a new god, at least not for eons. They had had only one shot, and failed to exert their influence. This was him.

„Do you enjoy your superficial victories? The forces of the old ones prepare for battle as we speak" Rôth asked him.

„Most of the Twilight hammer clan is turning to filth inside the bellies of my soldiers. Ragnaros infernos have been quenched. The realm of water I can leave to the mortals" Roth answered.

„But at what price?"

Roth stared at himself, this perfect mirror image. He did not smile but this version of him still smirked.

Rôth enjoyed seeing the disbelief in _his _own eyes.

Roth felt neither sadness nor joy. He was no longer interested in what was about to happen. He just wanted to destroy this creature before him. He was not angry, he was not impatient. It was just his next course of action. What a wonderful charade he was presented with. The old ones truly knew how to make him cringe.


	24. Chapter 24

The howling winds of Stormpeak made Saxia shiver. She had been able to cross the Borean tundra and Wintergrasp swiftly and could already see the great gates of Ulduar before her, the mountains of Stormpeak below.

Saxia landed near the entrance of the titanic prison. She turned into her elven form and entered.

The complex was forsaken and its guardians slain. Still the dragon proceeded slowly and with caution. Stealth was her speciality after all.

* * *

><p><em>Mindboggling <em>Wrathion thought to himself, as he beheld the vast expanses of the universe, stretching before him. Stars and nebular filled the violet sky above him.

_Movement._ The dragon whelpling turned around as fast as physically possible. He could have sworn he had seen a young woman pass him just now. But there was nothing.

He looked down. Barren grey soil underneath his shoes. A construct and a city cast in darkness were visible in the distance. A misshapen shadow crept towards Wrathion.

* * *

><p>Roth jumped forth and grabbed his twin. He rammed him trough the wall of wood and stone behind him. Through the haze of splinters he saw arcane lighting trickle down on him. He countered by swatting it aside like a pesky fly, scattering the spell. The misguided arcane energies tore away walls and ceiling, causing the room to collapse. Roth was already outside, chasing his mirror image across the sky. He swung wildly with his blade, while his opponent blocked with his clawed hands. Rôth was incredibly nimble, and used all his limbs in a will storm of japs and kicks against his adversary who countered with magnificent swordplay. Their movements were inhuman and their clashes reverberated through the skies. Roth was at a disadvantage; Rôth could attack using any of his limbs.<p>

Roth summoned a number of tentacles from within his shadows, which gave chase to his other self. Rôth danced vividly between the onslaughts of spiked tentacles, and ripped them apart one by one.

Through the forest of crippled tentacles, Roth came forth, his blade glowing violet. He swung it down over Rôth's head, who did not evade. He turned immaterial. They stood in the skies right in front of each other, two birds of the same feather.

"It seems we are getting nowhere" Rôth commented, still wearing a smile of indifference.

"In that case why don't we stop with the banter." Roth offered and discarded his human shape. In a violent vortex of black and red his figure grew immensely in size.

Roth's humanoid shape, clad in a dark haze towered over Rôth, who teleported a safe distance away.

"Interesting." Rôth commented before relinquishing his own guise. He exploded into a wafting conglomeration of black haze that slithered through the air shaping up into a globular form. He had transformed into a massive sphere, sprouting lidless, black eyes and tentacles at every possible angle along its surface. He had a sickly green and white skin.

He was bigger than Roth by a long shot; His tentacles were so immense they could envelope him easily.

And so it began.

Roth advanced forward to cut down this behemoth.

He dodged whip like attacks from Rôth's tentacles and poised his blade for a decisive blow. But again, Rôth turned ethereal but this time his adversary followed suit. The two dark forces battled for an instant for dominance before they destroyed one another completely. Both were catapulted through the air, solid once again. They bore witness as their divine powers raged through the air as violet lighting and ravaged the land below, cracking the soil, tainting it.

Rôth wove fire spells with each of his tentacles, and unleashed a barrage upon his next of kin. Fire rained down on Roth, who summoned an arcane shield to his defense. But his magic was too weak, and he was slung to the ground, smoldering. The earth cracked open upon such mistreatment and swallowed him partially. Other spheres of fire, exploded next to him, scorching the ground and turning it into a chruning pit of lava.

Roth emerged from the lake of fire, and directed his hands with visible strain at the god before him. Molten stone spewed forth at the abominable creature, clashing against its sickly colored skin. A spell protected the monster from harm, and so Roth adjusted himself. He cast silently and covertly spells upon the very ground he stood upon.

Rôth grew tired of waiting and instead took the initiative. He harnessed shadow energies in his innumerable eyes and focused their powers in one stream down on Roth. The orange and purple ray drove through the air and met black metal. Roth deflected the spell with his blade and focused his own shadow energies within the blade to divert the deadly ray. He succeeded…and waited. He swung his blade into the ground and taunted his adversary. Rôth lashed out impatiently with two of his tentacles, one from both sides, to capture the other human hybrid. This was what Roth had waited for, he turned ethereal, so that both tendrils moved through him, and he could take a hold of them. As soon as he grabbed them he slammed them into the ground and took a hold of his blade. Rôth tried to force his tentacles free, but he could not, they would not move. He noticed the elemental magic at play, which rendered gravity in that vicinity multiple times stronger.

Roth was already on him preparing his blade for a decisive blow. But Rôth had many more limbs, which he now used without constraint to unleash on the black haze that tried to kill him. Roth teleported just in time to dodge, above Rôth he now floated in the skies, channeling all his elemental power into his blade and flung it into the air. Unarmed he shot downward on his enemy. He tapped once again into his dark techniques, but this time not to defend, but to attack. Again two spheres of darkness collided and annihilated one another. The two ethereal gods canceled each other's immaterial state, by losing their own.

Rips opened in to fabric of physical reality where they clashed, merging the real world and the spirit realm together.

Roth had all but exhausted his ability to turn immaterial, but his twin did not show fatigue and slung his limbs around him. But before Roth was crushed, an object drove itself deep into the globular bulky god and rammed his body into the ground with cataclysmic force. Hillsbrad shook dangerously, causing rockslides in the Alterac Mountains.

A bulging eye focused on Roth. He was a pitch-black figure, slender and with red eyes peering through the darkness down at his twin.

_Clever, he manipulated the weight of his blade with the elemental powers of the earth, first lowering it, then increasing it a hundredfold._ Rôth thought to himself.

_And to stop me from turning invulnerable he first cancelled my magic._

Roth folded his hands together and smote down on the fallen god. He retrieved his blade, but was skewered before he could retreat. Two tendrils slithered through his insides, gutting him. With the last of his remaining divine power he turned his left hand into a bristling inferno of shadow magic, powerful enough to scorch Rôth's tentacles, making them fall to the ground, dead and useless.

Again Roth noticed that unsettling feeling of arcane unrest in the air. He turned his eyes skyward and spotted a number of blue circles and globular objects circling erratically around a concentration of arcane power.

"So you are going to kill us both with that thing?" Roth asked, almost with pleasant anticipation.

Instead of answering Rôth turned ethereal and slithered away from his doomed counterpart.

The Leylines aligned themselves and swirled downwards as a focused vortex of inconceivable power onto the wounded god.

Roth's blade pierced into the raging torrent of arcane, scattering arcane lighting across the land. Vortexes and ripples obliterated the fabric of reality wherever they hit. His sword started to glow white, and cracks danced about its surface under the enormous strain. The black god poured all his strength into deflecting the lethal blow.

Before his body broke, his weapon shattered. The remaining arcane flux was spread across the land destroying what little had been untouched.

"Can you feel it?" Rôth gloated.

"I feel nothing." Roth stated while regarding his broken sword, all that remained was its hilt in his hand.

"Exactly!" The abomination exclaimed.

"Another part of the leylines extinguished forever" he explained.

Roth understood now.

"This device is fashioned from the nexus is it not?" Roth nodded to the strangle weapon hovering far above them.

"Indeed" Rôth confirmed.

"Impossible, the nexus is still in Coldarra, I can sense its essence across the sea" Roth objected.

"And the fact that we both stand here right now is not impossible?" The other hybrid countered mockingly.

Finally Roth's divine intuition gave him the clue to the identity of this mirror image.

"Timetravel" Roth spat while his eyes narrowed.

"Correct" His other self congratulated.

"In that case killing me would create a paradox. So why try?" Roth asked indifferently.

"Correct again, but also false" Rôth answered cryptically.

"A meaningless statement" Roth asserted.

"You still cling to your mortal notions of causality and chronology, thinking they will help you use your powers wisely. The opposite is the case, they limit your gifts, rendering you incapable of harnessing their true potential"

Rôth stated as though teaching him a valuable lesson.

"Are you finished? Strike already I'm sick of the thought that we are the same."

He had nothing to be afraid of.

He had walked in the darkness already.

Death would be salvation.

"You really are a sore loser, and you don't even known the half of what is really going on" Rôth said disappointed his other self was so disinterested in their discourse.

"Well suffice it to say that timetravel is possible, but not in the sense you would assume. There are even different versions; our fathers for example were able to rewrite the history of the war of the ancients to some extent. Even the mortals were granted to retrieve the demon soul and Nozdormu mended the ravaged timeways to allow it." He explained.

Roth's strength was expended; he did not have the power to even move.

But that was his biggest advantage at the moment. So he indulged his other self.

"If this was the meddling of the infinite dragonflight the bronze would have noticed. The infinite also lack the means of influencing the destiny of gods, these mongrels are sniffed out easily by our supreme senses"

"Exactly" Rôth concurred "Tampering with our past or future is virtually impossible for them. So I extended a helping hand."

A black Wyrm, his features accentuated by white light appeared before Roth, next to him a great construct of glass and sand. The Hourglass of Time. Roth had the feeling he had always been there, he had simply not realized it.

Rôth had taken control of the Aspect in his timeline, and used him now to interfere with parallel timeways.

"I really wanted to know for what purpose you summoned that pathetic demon to your aid, and then refrained from utilizing him. But we both know you won't tell me, right _brother_" Rôths deep and foreboding voice droned over the ravaged landscape, left by the titanic duel.

Roth played his part diligently. As long as this clone of his did not take too much interest in Kazzak's whereabouts he would not deliver yet another powerful weapon to add to Rôths impressive arsenal. Not that it mattered at this point, he himself had left less then what even the most optimistic schemer would call an ace.

And then it hit him.

"You did not travel to outland?" He asked the victorious deity floating aloof before him.

The creature did not answer, which was more then enough to answer his curiostiy.

Bronze runes flared up beneath Roth. He was bathed in bright amber light.

He knew what was about to transpire.

"So you do not even have the guts to finish me off, are our fathers satisfied with that outcome? Don't they want just their lapdog to stand victorious?"

He provoked. He knew that the arcane device was the only thing capable to destroy him utterly, and it would not fire again in these magic depraved lands.

Countless black eyes focused on him. "Are you done embarrassing yourself with such hollow bravado? I am no ones servant, if I were there would be no meaning in having created this parallel universe." Rôth answered, "I could have continued ruling the broken world I left behind side by side with the old ones. So why is it I am here brother?

"You did not free them, instead you did as you pleased and once you got bored you sought to do it all over again" Roth stated coolly.

"It was fun setting the mortal realms ablaze, you should have seen it." The malevolent creature exclaimed ecstatically.

"But that cannot be all, can it?" Roth inquired.

"Of course, why go through all the trouble, when I could have just set sights on the next world in the vicinity." Rôth agreed, "Well your army won't notice the difference, I shall enjoy masquerading as you and become the savior of these wretches."

Roth's eyes narrowed. He could feel the pull of another reality on his body.

He grabbed his broken weapon tighter and spat: "You miserable bastard came here to take my place and abolish the responsibility that came with your servitude to _them_. I loathe the idea that _I _succumbed to them, even if it is _you_"

"Again you do not even know the half of it" Rôth spoke, his misshapen eyes, suddenly had an impenetrable distance to them. He no longer saw Roth before him; he seemed to search far deeper. He peered into another time.

The insane Murozond roared, when the sands contained in his hourglass circulated violently.

Roth's entire being was engulfed in a white flash. An eldritch scream echoed over the battlefield. Then there was only Rôth.


	25. Chapter 25

_Two Years Ago,_

_Outland_

It was a bleak desert; its expanses drawing out to the horizon without end, a dull, harsh and hopeless place. This broken world was dried up. He could not recall for how long he had wandered. Untouched by the aggressive sun, this alien, different sun. Or was it the same? He did not know or care. He simply noted.

He took one step after another. Sometimes he rested, wondered how this place must have looked centuries or decades ago, or he contemplated the bones of dead beasts, half buried in the sand. He saw many Illusions conjured up by the relentless heat, which made the air flare violently. Again and again he encountered pockets of demons. Their flesh nourished him. He kept on walking. How many days already he did not know in this self imposed exile. The shifting of sands around him changed the landscape by the day. The desert never had a point of reference. It was an ever-changing plane akin to the sea ironically enough.

And he was adrift. A lost sailor. Without ship, without compass, without goal.

The only thing familiar was the pain. Constant. Always at his side. He was there when he waded through sand or when he rested on a dune. He was cosy and reliable.

The only thing that never left him completely.

* * *

><p><em>Now,<em>

_Ulduar_

Saxia strode through the great halls of the titan prison.

The complex was massive, without magic just navigating it was impossible.

Rotten corpses and destroyed constructs littered the floor at regular intervals, to reiterate the tremendous, yet necessary foolishness of those daring to investigate this cursed location.

There were no guards.

No one cared anymore for this place anymore, after it had very nearly caused the annihilation of this world at the hands of its own creators.

Before long Saxia arrived at the entrance of the celestial planetarium.

The great gate, which obscured further trespass, was no match for the dark magic, Roth had entrusted her with. She revealed runes tattooed into her forearms underneath her robe, which glowed dangerously and bore forth mighty tentacles. The scaly tendrils slithered up and down the multi-coloured door slowly until they found a weak spot to penetrate. They looked like black onyx stone, reflecting the light against their dark complexion.

They bore into the gate with immense strength, and flashed in blinding orange like a stream of magma. In no time they had melted their obstacle, allowing Saxia to enter.

_The next day,_

_Hillsbrad Foothills,_

_Ravenholdt_

He could see the Kirin Tor mages in the distance, setting up some sort of device, which looked to his untrained eye like an exaggerated telescope. He had no interest in what they were doing or what they hoped to find out.

"Master Shaw" A young man approached him. He could see the young agents uncertainty concerning most recent events. There are no survivors; the horde in Tarrens Mill and South Shore was most likely taken completely by surprise.

Shaw stroked his short beard as though thoughtful, but the words of his underling were utterly without meaning to him.

"Shall I have someone from alchemy and research, poke around in that?" The young man asked Shaw and pointed to his feet. The dismembered corpse of a young woman was sprawled between them, making conversation with his absent superior more awkward than necessary. Shaw took special care not to look at what he had allured to, which struck the agent as odd, given the fact the man before him was possibly the most hard-boiled Assassin on the continent.

"No, but collect the remains nonetheless and have them brought to the morgue" Shaw turned around and pretended to rub his nose very enthusiastically.

"I'll be with you shortly" Shaw finally said, prompting his subordinate to leave him.

Shaw stood without motion with his back to the young agent until he thought him gone.

He looked out onto the vast destruction that had been wrought. The land had turned upside down. Fires ravaged the forests and the air was tainted with arcane and dark magic. The sky was a bulging surreal spiel of images past and future, of other places and different myriads of colour. The only ones mad and curious enough to step foot here where those who risked their lives everyday anyway - like him. The other sorts were those who were drawn to magical mysteries like moths to fire, namely the mages of the Kirin Tor Order.

Yet none of this registered with the great spymaster as the wetness in his eyes obscured clear vision of the profanity done to the physical laws in front of him.

Whatever cataclysmic battle had raged here, it was now over.

He slowly turned his head to regard the face of the dead girl next to him.

* * *

><p><em>Ulduar,<em>

_The Celestial Planetarium_

Saxia entered a great circular room. It had no visible floor and yet she could tread, as though in thin air. When she entered the light changed, the surroundings changed. Beneath her feet the vast of the great dark beyond stretched into infinity, with the occasional star blinking back at her.

The Dragon beheld a great translucent figure, made apparently from the light of stars themselves before her.

"There is nothing I can give to this world, your trespass is without purpose"

The male shape spoke. Its voice was devoid of emotion, but it brimmed with immense authority.

Saxia did not sway, she wanted to fulfil her task as quickly as possible and leave this place. The fact a dead god lay here made her shudder, especially given the warning she had received from their descendant.

_They are not dead._

"When the mortals stopped you from fulfilling your duty, you gave them something that would stop this world from judgement" Saxia began "I want its counterpart." She demanded.

Algalon was neither impressed nor alarmed.

"None on this world has any use for what you seek. Whether they be the creatures the makers contained here, nor any of the countless races living their lives on this island in the grand cosmos." The apparition answered in its apathetic tone of voice.

"Yet your masters have uses and intentions for exactly that" Saxia retorted, trying to force a concession from Algalon.

"The cosmos seems chaotic, yet the components from which it is fashioned, are ordered, and reveal truth, thus the name _Cosmos_. My patrons impose this order upon worlds so as to create islands of respite within the great reaches of chaos.

Their influence will be felt if they deem it necessary."

"That is all? Their aloof and elusive nature suggested, what shall I call it, a grander plan." Saxia commented doubtful.

"Order and chaos are mere concepts, which in the end connote nothing special.

It is the viewpoint, which defines what is ordered and what is engrossed in chaos.

They are not antitheses of each other, rather they form a unit. From their deceptively obvious nature a framework emerges which is the foundation for all the principles that govern and disrupt reality. _Order _and _Chaos _are the same phenomenon heading towards discriminative ends" Algalon explained.

"Then they are slaves to the cosmos as every other sentient creature" Saxia concluded, unimpressed.

"A conclusion, which you could have reached without my intervention. The maker's influence is limited, circumstantial and bound by specific timescales related to them. But such are the influences of every conscious; the only difference is the magnitude and the exceptions that emerge from it."

Saxia was tired of this pointless charade and called upon Roths dark blessing to bend the Titans vanguard to her will.


	26. Chapter 26

The first sensation the young god was able to discern was that of falling.

Gravity had taken a hold of him. What he saw and heard made no sense to him.

He felt his body crashing onto the land. Slowly he lifted his torso, by pushing with his arms to straighten himself. His eyes noted a scarred and barren black soil. Burned and tainted was the ground, and when he raised his head, the menacing skulls of Icecrown glared down at him. Roth's body was still in its true form, a slim giant, clad in darkness, his disgusting face obscured. His wounds were deep, his weapon shattered.

A nostalgic feeling washed over him. He remembered his first and until now _only _true defeat, and the words of the Doomlord through whose hands it was delivered.

_Your weakness lies not with your powers, but with the fact that you never faced a true challenge before. You never had to fight an equal or stronger opponent; your inexperience spelled your doom._

Then comprehension settled on him. Roth scanned his surroundings. He was undoubtedly on Northrend. But there was no ice or snow anywhere to be seen, and yet a chill ran down his spine. Rays of lightning flashed through the clouded skies, as though engaged in competition with one another. He inspected the kingdom of the damned. Its walls lay shattered; none of its cursed denizens were left. He could not feel an intelligent mind anywhere.

Slowly he got up, still clutching his useless sword and began to walk. He spared no thought for a direction, for there was no immediate goal to arrive at.

Roth realized, he was stranded in another timeline, left in ashes by _himself_.

He was imprisoned on a dead planet.

…

_There she was again _Wrathion thought. Out of the corner of his eyes he had seen her.

But he had no time to waste on her. Something was following him; he could feel it stalking him. Its intend was unclear, but he had no interest to be caught by whatever lurked in the darkness. His feet rattled over the dark ground, in the only direction that made sense to him; the strange city he had spotted at his arrival on this surreal plane.

Wherever Roth had transported him of to, Wrathion had decided to pay him back in full.

_Northrend,_

…

Roth clutched his side, keeping his corruptive blood at bay. His wounds might kill his body; his spirit however would remain for eons until he could once again assume physical shape. He was not afraid of death, he was afraid of not dying. Roth loathed the idea, of having to roam this broken world while his twin was given free reign to do it all over in _his _timeline. And though he had told himself the world of mortals no longer existed for him, mattered no more, he felt something twist inside of him contemplating the consequences of his failure.

Night had fallen quickly in the wasted lands he strayed through. His mind was in utter disarray. His skin was numb to any feeling, his eyes tired of the complete vacancy on the grey planes that extended to the Horizon. He saw little difference between the black hung heavens above him, and the depraved soil beneath. Only when a flash of lighting penetrated the dark violently and scorched the ground in the distance, could he distinguish the two. The silence was torture. There was no life left, safe for the souls of the damned he saw wandering aimlessly through this dirty desert.

They were mere shades of their former selves, less than the undead of the scourge, just transparent lingering thoughts of madness. They were not hostile, but they did not respond either. Roth had observed some of them crossing paths with another, only to pass through and continue on undisturbed.

He did not fear him, but they still made him uneasy. Divorced as he was from the mundane influences of both the cosmos and this world, their was nothing he _could _fear. The notion of living forever was what disturbed him, and how _alike _he was to them, wandering without purpose. The demon lords of the burning Legion had brought death and madness to countless worlds, and he had witnessed the dread they had visited upon outland firsthand. Despite his initial struggle he had slaughtered the demons with relative ease. The undead legions, as spawn, or consequence of demonic intervention, represented _nothing _particular disturbing to him. They were prisoners, nothing more, those who were intelligent enough, usually enjoyed the newfound powers they could abuse. Those among them who did not lost themselves in a catatonic state of denial soon enough. They were like the lower ghouls and abominations, which were the product of hideous experiments; their personalities had been eradicated long ago. What disturbed him was no force of mere brutality. Instead it was the _meaningless _world, left behind by something that was _like,_ and objectively _indistinguishable_ from him. If what Rôth had said was true, and he did not follow the Old gods instructions, Roth had to wonder what it was, in his own soul, which could crave this pointless result. This world was not as the worlds devoured by the burning legions fury, it was not dead. But it was alive no longer, either. Rôth had created something akin to a purgatory. And Roth had reason to believe himself the only sentient Prisoner.

_The Celestial Planetarium,_

_Now_

Algalon lost Power quickly. He was not concerned However.

"Dragon, you do not even know what truly lies in those runes you have been endowed with, they will be the death of you" The titan servant stated passively.

Saxia ignored him; instead she regarded the intricate device in her hands. It was hardly bigger than her closed fist and yet it could spell doom for Azeroth that was unprecedented. _Ridiculous _she thought. She did not want to know why Roth coveted this ominous thing.

_Northrend,_

…

Time and silence. He had plenty to contemplate all that had transpired in his short-lived rebellion against the darkness underneath the earth. He recalled the mysterious prophecy Gall had screamed at him, while madness had overtook him. _Why?_

Had the old gods wanted to warn him? Did they know Rôth would come?

"The dead one rises again, he has broken the circle" Roth whispered. This referred to himself; he was dead and walked again, had broken the cycle of life and death.

"Oh the terrible mirage, he cannot see, he cannot hear!" Roth was sure that lined implied his other self, but what did it mean? That Rôthcould not see or hear or spoke it of himself?

_The unholy star formation _was undoubtedly that cursed device that devoured the Leylines.

… _it is hunting across the raped land! Wasteland! He cannot help, not anymore, The young gods heart is black ice _had this already come to pass? Was he the one it spoke of? He looked around at the aftermath of his failure and stopped in his tracks.

_What did it even matter now?_

Lavina was dead.

And _nothing _was left on this world. He could not regain his strength with nothing to feed of, not with this severe damage. There were no whispers of madness to be heard.

Even the old ones were silent. Had Rôth destroyed them? Had he actually found a way? Roth would not investigate. There was a chance all of this was orchestrated; seeking answers from _them_ was pointless, he might play into their hand unwittingly by confronting them here. Even just thinking about the notion was utter madness, but nothing else seemed useful. Was Rôth laying waste to Azeroth right now while he stood here? Was this how time still worked? Or were these worlds separate from one another, no causality between them, no consequence? _If _he could return _when _would that be? Would it be _intime_? Was there meaning in his musings?

Even if he somehow averted disaster, he would not be able to gloat. He had wanted to look into Lavina's eyes when he triumphed over the darkness she had sold her soul to.

He had wanted to stand in defiance, and spite her. Roth remembered his flight to outland. He had exchanged his feelings for power, killed of what had remained of his humanity. There he had challenged the demons of the burning legion and reveled in the bloodbath incited as a result. The nature of the old gods had made him more ferocious, the more blood he spilt.

His abominable second side had reveled in the pointless slaughter and rewarded him with ever so much more power.

Soon he had been capable of decimating entire outpost with little more than the snap of a finger. _And it had been for nothing_. It had never been love that drove him.

Hate was much more potent, resourceful and _pure_. Hate was loves twisted little brother. It had made him powerful. Love now made him weak.

But whenever he looked up into the vast darkness of this worlds broken sky, he realised: Even in her betrayal Lavina had given him everything. If one asked him what moment in life he wanted to relive, it would be one of those nights they had lain next to each other talking, dreaming. What difference made it if it had not been _real_? Nothing was real in the sense people mean_._ Everyone perceives reality slightly different. Had his feelings not been the ones one has when he is next to the girl he loved? He had been moulded by these experiences with her as though they were lovers. For a time she had been the one person who knew the things about him no one else knew and never would. She had created something in him, so why was she not allowed to destroy it again? Of course she was allowed to do it. He merely wanted to punish her for giving it and then denying it. Of course he was perfectly in his right to feel so.

Lavina had been the girl that made him a man. And she was the woman to make this man a monster. In essence it was simple.

He had to take what came after her betrayal with stoicism, since it was his pay for those precious moments. And yet he craved destruction of his body and mind. Are these feelings not perfectly rational? He has to bear these that is his duty, but he does not have to accept them, for if he did where was the challenge?

If he accepted he would reject what he truly felt, what he truly thought and believed. No his path was clear and yet he struggled with it. And those who would condemn him for it had yet to realize that there was no easy path ever. Those who feel their is one, trick themselves into decisions without ever feeling their weight and importance. They cannot comprehend the significance of a moment and never seize it. They had not yet discovered what it meant to truly be alive.

He started to walk again. There must be something he was missing.


	27. Chapter 27

_Twilight Highlands,_

_Now_

"They've grown nicely" Rôth commented, regarding the Qiraji prophet to his right.

The creature bowed lightly with respect. The lands before him were stripped bare, no trees, no animals remained, only a ever heaving mass of silithid bodies reached to the horizon. "The forests here gave us plenty of materials for construction of additional ships to carry the spawnlings" The Qiraji explained. "They are to board those ships that are finished, the old ones tendrils have their tightest grasp on Northrend, get them there as fast as possible" Rôth ordered. "What about the Dragon Master?" The insectoid inquired. "He will be there, for that very reason" Rôth asserted.

_The Howling Fjord_

Roth turned around; behind him lay the howling fjord, before him the great sea.

The glacier he was standing on creaked and rocked. Roth's magic was less then subtle but in his weakened state it took him some effort to break the ice free.

He had not enough power left to fly or teleport. Neither could he borrow energy from the ley lines, there was none left. This world was completely devoid of magic.

His efforts continued however and soon he was free to roam the waters before him.

He sailed without sail, slowly but surely the great sea on his ship of ice.

On slow waves his frozen vessel moved like a snake on dunes of sand.

Nothing lived in the depths below. This world was but an immense graveyard.

Roth was impressed. He would need time to regenerate from the damage he suffered. And even if he healed, there was neither arcane to bolster his spells nor life to sustain him. There were no means to cross paths with his own timeline, after all Rôth had corrupted Nozdormu and taken the Hourglass of time with him. The caverns of Time did not harbor the power he needed, not anymore. The Nexus was plundered. The Emerald Dream was useless as long as he was in the wrong dimension. _This_ Azeroth had become a vast inescapable prison.

…,

….

Wrathion was stupefied. He had escaped whatever lurked in the dark, but now he found himself sheltered in the shadows of the unknown City. Dark monoliths could be seen in the distance. Walls of ageless stone protruded from the ground. The buildings, if such they could be called, were windowless cubes, all differing in size, number of edges and even in material they were fashioned from. His feet guided him subconsciously along the deserted streets, in between the oddly shaped monoliths. The path he followed was neither straight nor uneven. He felt rather that the buildings themselves seemed to move, sometimes closer, sometimes farther away. Wrathion could not be sure if he neared the heart of the thing or he was just going in a great circle around in the outskirts of the City. Curiosity had won dominance over fear and caution.

_The Great sea_

On his vessel of ice, he lay. The flicker of Darkness about his body was dim and weak, much of his grotesque and repulsive shape was revealed to the sickly light of an indifferent sun, far above the clouds, hovering in the emptiness of boundless space. His body was not cold; his senses had no regard for the harshness of the outside world. Even the pain of his wounds did not sway him. And yet he was tired. Would he sleep? He could not remember the last time he had slipped into overindulging oblivion. The prospect was tempting, too long had he lingered in the lands of the waking. Now, unable to change his current state of affairs, he would sleep. The sea was infinite. Long had he sailed, and his supernatural senses revealed to him he had covered much distance in the last two weeks. He would sleep.

There she was again. Were the Elders playing tricks on his mind? Usually he could have discarded the notion, to illusions he was nearly immune. But now his body was weak, his mind tired. The young women watched him from the edge of the surface of still water, from within the mirrors of frozen glass like ice underneath him.

He was not rested. The perpetual silence, apart from occasional sounds, feeble waves produced when clashing against his makeshift ship, made him delirious. His mind wandered, from the moment his life had ended, to how he became a captive of time. His form had finally reverted to his more acceptable human one. He lay naked, his chest scarred with innumerable lines, of mended flesh. Two large, mangled and shredded holes were situated on his chest, greeted by the ill light of the silent sun, just barely protruding through the ghastly clouds, blotting out the sky. His left arm was still covered in charred, mangled flesh.

Wrathion once again spied the raven-haired woman with auburn eyes. She had hovered just outside the corner of his eyes, watching him intently. When he had noticed her and shifted his head to return her gaze, She turned around a corner, out of his field of vision. The dragon whelp followed. The City had changed. To his sides the buildings opened up now, revealing their denizens, all engaged in different activities, not taking notice of anything. He could see into rooms, which themselves seemed to be gateways to other places or realms or even times. He could see lairs of insectiod horrors. Dark vaults disguising hideous experiments behind their walls and demons fighting a creature of purest dark on a desolated barren world. But he could glimpse also more tranquil regions, like farming fields, humans teaching a boy how to ride a black steed and Stormwind City. Wrathion paused for a moment to behold the human bastion more closely. People moved about, the sun was setting and there, he could spy the mysterious female walking the streets. The young dragon knew somehow that his only way to escape this bizarre spiel was to follow her.

Roth could not guess how long he had lain dormant. Time held no longer any meaning. He had drifted all the way to stranglethorn vale. The once lush forests lay dead around him. A great war must have been fought here. War machinery was scattered all about. Mortal remains of all creeds littered the raped ground. The stench of _his own_ corrupt powers permeated the air. They had fought against a god of death on this very soil and lost. Roth continued, this world did not hold what he sought.

_Blackwing Descent,_

"Quite a collection of extraordinary creatures you have assembled in here" Rôth commented while He strode towards the Black Haired Man of seeming Royal heritage. The Black Dragon studied the young man with detained curiosity.

"I always had a taste for the exotic, but maybe you should meet my Sister, after all she is my most recent and finest work" Nefarian spoke with cunning, but his tone of voice betrayed the Pride the Dragon had for the distractions he occupied himself with under the orders of the Destroyer of Worlds. "Such a shame for you that your father is a puppet of forces beyond his reach, I'll deal with him when I am done here" Rôth continued their banter while wearing an inviting smile. "You will have to forgive the old man, after all he is an idealist; riding the world of all non Dragons is quite an Ambition. I find my true calling is to satisfy my curiosity by studying the creation of new, better lifeforms." The eldest Son of Blackwing explained. "And what a fine topic to explore and expand on" Rôth interjected "Yet I have always held a greater interest in creating and perfecting tools; to see the cogwheels you gave your all to fashion, work in perfect harmony to serve your needs is always intoxicating for the mind I find."

"And what _cogwheels _are you planning on forging this time, bastard Son of the old gods?" The Black Dragon asked. "Perfection is less a tangible concept than it is an ideal I think, and yet I feel to have transcended it with a little toy of mine I brought with me" Rôth answered with a hint of pride and mad fascination himself. The Black Dragon watched eagerly as Rôth presented his open palm to the sentient reptile.

The Leylines shifted their location, the young god changed into a translucent form before Nefarians Eyes, as bright light blinded the Dragon and swallowed him whole.


	28. Chapter 28

_The blasted lands_

The dark portal lay silent amidst the arid red sands. No power pulsated within the immense construct. Roth touched the elaborate carvings that adorned its massive pillars. He opened his palm and studied his hand, as though some essence of the old gateway had been left on it by touch. He then summoned his broken sword to his side. Barely more than its hilt remained, but there was still a small edge protruding, enough that he could use it to slash his hand, producing a small stream of blood. _Once again he saw those auburn eyes gaze into his_. He observed his black, corrupted blood flowing down his arm. Roth smeared the ooze onto the portals edged runes and watched it infect the magical artifact. The titanic structure started to emit a faint, but noticeable violet hue. The young god bend down to examine his wound more closely. Even in his severely mangled state, he still managed to close it within seconds. Roth stepped back. With his diminished powers, it would take an indefinite amount of time to open the dark portal. He sat down as though he wanted to meditate and tapped into the vast emptiness within him.

_Stormwind?_

Wrathion knew what he currently beheld was not real. The human bastion of Stormwind was but one fragment of a distorted multitude of visions coming at him from all angles. The woman that had haunted him and the one he observed now in the distance walking amongst the many old buildings of Stormwind was surely the same. She was wearing leather gear and daggers strapped to her sides, the garbs of an Assassin, the same that had come to take his very life. But what unsettled him about her was the blood pouring endlessly from a horizontal cut on her chest, which reached all around her. Her arms sported similar cuts at the exact same height. She had been cleaved into several pieces with one clear stroke. He also noticed a huge hole where her heart should be located, as though someone had thrust through her body with an immense lance. The young dragon followed the strange woman to a house in the old district of Stormwind city a house like any other. Her home.

The boy convulsed heavily, his eyes were blind, his breath ragged. His blood stained the clear wooden floor, painting it crimson to match the colour of his eviscerated chest. Wrathion noticed two more people, a girl embraced a cloaked figure, they were not intimate in a deeper sense, their closeness had a more casual, sexual undertone to it. The final occupant of the plain room they all stood in was the dismembered and reformed woman next to the dying boy. She and Wrathion had entered and found the three others already busy with what ever it was they were doing. Both of them were ignored, as though they were ghosts, mere observers with no power to interfere.

An idea was forming in the dragons mind, edging him on to burn every detail he could into his resourceful mind. He quickly realized that the two women were the same, merely a few years apart. The resemblance was too uncanny for them to be sisters.

_The barren World,_

_The remnants of the Dark Portal_

The runes on the massive gateway shimmered with unholy power. Build by a deranged Sorcerer under the influence of a fallen Titan; this was to be the tool to poison a World that had denied the Destroyer. But it now served a new master, for a new purpose. The Portal opened. Roth breached the swirling vortex of trans planar energy wafting towards him with a few quick strides.

_Outland_

Hardly any change had occurred since the last time Roth had trespassed into the Orcs native home world. Hellfire peninsula was still a red desert, so dry no vegetation could be seen for miles. A group of imps cowered awestruck before him. Their fear-induced reverie was not focused on him however, rather the Dark Portal itself. They acted as though it had been inactive for years or decades atleast, but Roth feared it was much, much longer. Roth reciprocated their indifference to him, by surveying the horizon. He needed sustenance, an excessive amount of it, the imps faint demonic essence and feeble life force would do nothing to quench his hunger. He felt a familiar demon's presence, a few miles to his right. His eyes moved to a few jagged mountains eclipsed by an astral ring. As he had predicted Kazzak was still alive in this timeline and apparently still eager to represent the Burning legions forces on Outland. Roth's tounge moved along his upper lip in anticipation of the grand meal, but he knew it was foolish to challenge the Doomlord in his current state. Movement caught Roth's attention. A corpulent body moved sluggishly on the courtyard like platform below the staircase leading down from the Dark portal. The creature was of massive girth; it sported a savage weapon, carried by an arm showcasing muscles that bordered on the ridicules in size. It was a pit lord, a member of the great Annihilian race. On its back the six legged centaur like monstrosity exhibited two vestigial wings, incapable of heaving the humungous creature. It stood at easily thirty foot tall, twice that height in length, counting its horned tail. The great demons burning green eyes settled on Roth and he observed rows upon rows of cruel teeth, greeting him, framed by two gigantic tusks protruding from the beast's enormous maw. Roth returned the gesture as the same thought occurred to him that inhabited the Pit Lords mind.

Kazzak was an impressive specimen of the ered'ruin, his body was a conglomeration of massive muscles, making his already gargantuan size all the more imposing. The hulking creature easily wielded its former masters weapon, still not capable of admitting to himself he was gone forever. The Doomlord regarded the cloaked figure with mild interest. He had not seen a mortal for millennia. Kil'jaeden had left him and his minions behind on this worthless broken shell of a World. Communication had been lost shortly after the Dark Portal had ceased to function. But he was content with waiting; he had always lacked the tenacity and ambition that was befitting of one of the highest-ranking officers within the burning legion. He had fulfilled his task, collected the shards of the Glaive of the Aspects and reopened the Dark Portal. His lethargic tranquillity was broken however when a figure clad in black appeared before him on Kil'jaedens throne. The mortal had piercing eyes and the Great Demon could have sworn he saw a glimmer of pure contradiction, as insanity and reason battled endlessly behind these merciless orbs, penetrating within the deepest and most terrifying corners of the Doomlords mind.

_Azeroth,_

_The eastern Kingdoms_

Varian left the shade of Ironforge with a little more stride in his step then he had had when he set foot on the freezing planes on which the dwarven bastion was carved into the surrounding mountains. He had left his doubts behind about what to do for his kingdom, for the Alliance, no for the world itself. His course was clear to him now. Many heroes had lost their lives along with Malfurion, the dragonflights were in uproar and now Hillsbrad was left as barely more than rubble. He had not visited the site yet, but the fact that even Master Shaw was beside himself after traveling there unsettled him in a different but nonetheless frightening way, than the Aspect of Death running rampant.

_Ironforge,_

_Tinkertown_

Gelbin Mekkatorque dismissed his perplexed engineers with a wink of his hand, which then proceed to massage his temples. To think the King of Stormwind would ask him to have his people once more temper with the unstable weaponry that had polluted their ravaged city had the gnome on edge. Gelbin could understand however why he would go that far. The High Tinker had heard of what happened in Hillsbrad before Varian had arrived to ask of him this dubious favour. Given the number of Silithid breeding in the Twilight Highlands, just a swift march of two days from Dun Morogh, the human Kings proposal was of odd prudence. The Alliance needed weapons capable to destroy the vastly growing number of threats lurking in the shadows. They needed Weapons to exterminate great numbers in short periods of time without mercy and with a shudder the gnome acknowledged that he would be the one to provide them.

…

Lavina had led Wrathion across the remants of Roth's mind. She understood now, to some extent what he was. When she had _killed _him three years ago, part of his spirit had spilled out and remained in Stormwind. It was connected to him and yet separate at the same time. It had grown with him, over the past three years, expanding across the land as a shadowy realm. It had barely any effect on the real world but it was still there. It gave her soul a form to inhabit. Why the black dragon was here, she could not fathom. She remembered Roth pushing the black prince into a portal of some kind, but something had gone wrong. Something had happened to the young god that incapacitated his ability to sense her presence, otherwise he surely would have sought her out.

_Outland_

A warm wave washed over Roth as he feasted on Kazzak's essence. The Doomlords nefarious fel energies replenished his spirit and healed the last of his remaining injuries. When he had first faced the Demon in a different time, his knowledge of his powers had been nothing compared to now, prompting in his defeat. He had bested the Monstrosity afterwards, and with even less effort, now. While the Doomlords dark soul and corrupt body were certainly delicious, they were not the reason he had slain the creature. He knew that among Kazzak's possessions he would find an object that _might _be able to facilitate his escape from this dreary dimension.

Guarded by an impressive number of Doomguards he discovered the glaive of the Aspects. It sported thinly carved runes, invisible to the mortal eye, binding the essence of the five dragonflights within it. To anyone not familiar with the artefact it would seem like a plain weapon, with no distinguishable unnatural properties. But to Roth's divine gaze the objects mysterious powers lay plain and bare to read as he pleased. The young god turned to regard the demon behind him. The creature had greenish white skin, spanning a tall and muscular build. It was practically naked, its two arms replaced by bionic limbs, equipped with an array of saws, needles and more.

"I want your gan'arg to reforge that glaive into a new shape, and weave it into another metal." Roth ordered. The Mo'arg's pupil less eyes held the dark god's gaze and with its rasping guttural voice asked: "What metal?". Roth stretched out his left arm before him, pointing it directly at the demonic engineer. The creature did not flinch, but braced itself, to being obliterated by magic. Nothing happened. Roth retracted his arm, so his wrist came up to his face and bit into it. Black ooze dripped to the floor, and a dark, whizzing steam gushed forth, surrounding both him and the demon in an instant. The Mo'arg lowered his head in fear of the dark shapes and faces bubbling in and out of existence within the hazy wall of black. The ooze on the floor swelled up until it was almost the size of a head and solidified. "This much should be enough to familiarize yourself with the material, I will provide more once I deem your skills as a smith sufficient, as for the shape, you will have to wait until then. " Roth answered, his face business like. "As for this" Roth pointed to the clump on the floor "Get creative".

…

"So this is were _he_ died?" Wrathion asked. She nodded. "Then this starts to make some sense" Wrathion did not look up. His eyes were still focused on the dying boy on the floor. He watched intently as confusion and terror was replaced with hopelessness and resignation. "This place here could be where he first awakened his dormant eldritch powers. Maybe part of his consciousness or soul leaked and remained in stormwind." Curiosity overpowered fear and the black dragon turned fascinated to regard the perfect illusion unfolding in front of his eyes. He could see, hear and _feel _everything. Lavina did not care much for the excited dragon whelp. She wondered instead if she could escape this ethereal prison, or would she die? Afterall she did die, did she not?

_Outland_

Roth watched as the demons worked tirelessly to perfect his new weapon. He observed the subtle craftsmanship with which they forged the glaive into the form of a short blade. With a mix of awe and fear they worked his blood into the sword. His dark reflection from within the unfinished weapon assured his dominance over the glaive, allowing him to control it as though it were a part of him. He needed to wield the artefact with complete authority to transcend time and space.

As he gazed into the unfinished blade he caught a glimpse and as he focused on the little glimmer his view shifted. There he saw it.

_As if she wore pure light, she was stunning. She was the one that that had acquainted him with his own body. She did not shy away from him, and took away his embarrassment. Her kisses filled him with desires; he would have been ashamed of before._ _Now he was cold. He remembered the freezing of his soul, when her blade cut through his flesh. Hope had drained from him with every drop of blood that was stolen. So he had substituted it with the darkness of the void. _

Only for an instant Roth had lost himself, enchanted by his own weapons dormant power. He could feel it tugging at his mind, crying out for him to wield it. His black blood yearning to once more course through his veins. Nostalgic he thought back to when he had forged his first blade. He formed it, shaped it. And a Weapon had emerged. Forged from his despair. But this weapon was different. It acted as though it had a mind of its own.

…

While Wrathion still marvelled over his current whereabouts, Lavina took another look at Roy. He was already dead, but she felt as though his mind still remained. It had to for him to become what he was now. She bend down to regard the boy she had once loved more closely. The amount of blood was more than she could remember. Then again this was the one moment she had always tried to forget. But that was impossible, given the mission she could carry out as a result. She reached for his face but stopped. This was all in the past, there was nothing she could do now, and this was a mere Illusion. Still her hand moved to his eviscerated chest. She wanted to feel his heart beat, to know if he was still alive at that moment, this moment, then. Her fingers made contact with his blood stained chest… and yes there was a heartbeat faint and without rhythm.

_A dark figure observed misshapen, hunchbacked creatures as their professional hands took hold of hammers and worked on forging a pitch-black sabre. The sky was ashern but an enormous green haze cut through the dark canopy and innumerable stars dotted the broken heavens far above… _


	29. Chapter 29

…

Deathwing was mustering his last forces for an all out attack on Wyrmrest temple. The Dragon Aspects were gathered to empower the Dragon soul to hunt down the Aspect of Death. He was drawn to the idea of reclaiming the artefact as his own, but the potential danger he would subject himself to was great.

The mortals had forced the naga to retreat and restored the world pillar. Blackwing Lair and the Firelands had vanished in arcane fire. The hour of twilight was undone piece by piece, but his dark masters would not grant him rest, would not allow failure. Their sinister whispers held his mind in bondage, forcing him to pull all his remaining twilight dragons together. He was to throw in his lot with the machinations of the old gods. Their manifestations and faceless had already begun to rise from underneath the dead continent into the freezing cold air of the Dragonblight. The mad creatures still held sway over some powerful elementals and together with the remnants of the twilight cultists they might yet deal a critical blow to this cursed world.

_Stormwind_

The path was clear Wrynn thought. His spies had confirmed that the silithid were on the move by sea. They sailed north, to the frozen wastes of the roof of the world. The Allinance had endured many losses, but the twilight cult was losing. Whatever these insects where sent to do it was nothing minor. The number of ships was uncountable. But what if he was wrong? What if they distracted them from the real threat and while he chased after them, Garrosh or Deathwing would use the opportunity to strike? The World was one immense battlefield; tipping the balance anywhere would invite severe losses for the Alliance. The Nightelves had still to recover from their losses on Hyial, while the Dwarfs were fighting amongst one another and spreading themselves thin on two front lines. He would have to bring his own men and women and they would have to succeed without reinforcement.

_Outland_

The unholy weapon brimmed with unbridled power. Roth took hold of its hilt and let his divine power tame the beast. Its wide array of magic bend to him and he felt a sudden thrill as their might rushed through his body. His senses expanded even more, hazy visions of the future without chronology suddenly became clear to him. He could see the millennia this demon ravaged land had endured revealingly lucid. Even his knowledge and memory of his own past was suddenly shed in a clearer light. He noticed little details his mortal senses had neglected, but his dormant divine unconscious had filed away and dug even deeper into the malevolent torrent of chaotic power contained within the nucleus of his very being.

The glaive, chained to him through his blood had become an extension of his own body, as if he had gained a new organ or limb.

His powers had always been impressive, but he had never revelled in them, for they bore the insidious mark of his shadowy masters, endlessly reminding him of what he could no longer have, what he no longer was. His eyes were a black void, just like their power, their influence. The glaive was different. The power he accessed was like a maiden, pure and taken willingly as his not forced upon him. He indulged in the study of the glaives abilities and one in particular would, he hoped; unshackle him from this broken world. He used the glaives power over time to peer into the past, to learn of the destruction his clone had wrought, while simultaneously searching for the thread to his own timeline, buried under and infinite myriad of other worlds other times throughout the multi-verse. His own time eluded him, but others caught his attention. Particularly fascinating was the immaculate detail in which he could observe them all.

_Among the timeways_

They moved without noticing him, with infinite purpose. He could do little more than observe, lost in their splendour. Time was set in its ways. Despite the glaive he could not turn back time, could not affect what was _supposed_ to happen. He saw the events unfold an infinitesimal amount of times, every slightly different to the last one. And yet they all lead to ruin. In each he acted as the catalyst. He always plunged the world into darkness. In some timelines he did so unwittingly in others he was seeking it out actively and in some he was apathetic, indifferent to what transpired. But he was always there, the first step into madness. He watched for centuries until he was sick of it, but there was simply too much. The grip his divine mind held over the glaive loosened and he let himself drift subconsciously across time. Suddenly, after a long, long eternity he regained his senses. He could see himself walking arm in arm with her, hear the sweet sound of her voice, admire her delicate features and enjoyed the simple yet enchanting way her dress fluttered in the wind. And there it was again, that feeling of powerlessness of yearning for something he could never have, not even if he roamed time forever. This was nothing but an Illusion, a trick that was played on him.

Roth despaired until his vision shifted again, to that accursed moment, when her chest was ripped open and he was once more unable to stop it. But it was his hand that took her life that buried hastily and greedily with ease through her body, carved from it her essence and stole his vengeance. His fake laugh reverberated through the nucleus of unrelenting possibilities, madness and pain echoed in his voice until it subsided and gave way to desperate and frantic cries of anguish. He could no longer sustain his mask of cruel indifference and sadistic glee. Tears, how long had it been since he last shed them? They ran down his face, pouring from his widened eyes. This was not how it was supposed to turn out! Never he had sworn on his damned soul would he delve into emotion again! He had left behind his human feelings to fully tap into those dark, malevolent powers he was cursed with to sabotage the old gods! He did not care who they murdered, who they starved or drove to madness, what countries they burned, whose families they broke and who they manipulated to bring about their freedom. All he cared about was to stop them from achieving Liberty, not to save Azeroth, but for his own personal satisfaction. They were a worthy opponent, one he could battle endlessly, have entire armies massacred in combat against them and relish the chaos that ensued. He wanted to show them their grave error when they had given him life, when they had toyed with him! But his conviction to discard all was not enough. Shivering in his dreamlike form he inspected the blood that suddenly appeared on his hand further, _her blood_. It smelled so sweet, a fragrance never meant for one such as him. Not for a monster like him who got excited beyond reason, beyond control, from the mere idea of slaughter. All this time she had paid for in blood, killing off her own emotions. For what? There was no because, no reason, no explanation, if loyalty drives a human being to sacrifice herself like this. He saw Shaws plot. The feeble idea of protection he promised himself for sending in his most dear agent to infiltrate the cult of madness. He felt the touch of desperation once again, his own impotence. No matter how far he went, or how much power he attained it would never be enough. All this was worthless if he could not undo what was done to him. He had prevailed, seduced by the promise of revenge. But he would not be able to gloat. His vision shifted once more. He saw himself and her. This was what could have been. A future, now made impossible. Or was it? He just had to reach out with his arm and he could touch her. They moved with infinite ease. They did not just idly pass the time, instead Roth felt as though they headed somewhere particular. To Friends? A Celebration? A Festival? He wanted to believe there was a point to all this, he honestly wanted to. He wanted to have a piece of that innocence back he lost in that dreadful night. A piece of those peaceful, naive days, which were shattered so easily. Broken forever. There was no point in _believing _in anything, if you are constantly denied what you want. No this was not what he had wished for. Where had he gone wrong? Where had everything gone so wrong? He had himself allowed to be swallowed whole by the darkness. _What _had he wished for? He had wanted revenge. To smile forever in ultimate deprivation, never to be weak and powerless again. Never to be betrayed again, to die broken and stunned in confusion, drenched by his own blood. He had no right to regret now. Existence is a circle, ever repeating, no matter where you are, you are at the end of the old and the beginning of the new, acknowledging life once, means to acknowledge it forever. But that is not alive which can never die and he was certainly not dead, but he could not remember what it felt like to be truly alive. She is dead, but before her death she had wanted to tell him the truth, even though all she ever did was lie to him, he now wanted to hear, to believe what she would have told him.

_Ulduar_

Saxia studied the orb with a mix of awe and fear. This was capable of drowning the planet in fire to melt and reshape it from scratch. And it was in her possession. Her doubts forgotten she did no longer find it odd Roth had not procured it himself sooner.

She no longer paid any heed to the corpse of a god beneath her, nor to the instructions it whispered to her brethren from the dark.

_Feralas_

Ysondre fled as fast as her feet would allow. Blind, she searched the jungle of feralas for a refuge from the all to familiar horror chasing right behind her. While she tried to cross a small stream her feet got caught in the underbrush on the other side. Quickly she pressed herself to the ground. Cursing the fact she was unable to change into her draconic shape she listened to the wretched wheezing and growls of the abomination hunting her. Sweat ran down her face while she desperately tried to silence her own frantic breathing. Caged in her kaldorei form Ysondre felt the terror of its fragility. The mad creature she had tried to banish with the help of mortal heroes had ambushed them instead. Ysondre had listened panic-stricken as her companions flesh had been melted by poisonous gas. Their screams of agony had pierced the night like a blade. She had heard their desperate cries turn to mad gagging in the darkness as they tore their own throats to shreds.

A tree broke just a few arm lengths behind her. She could smell the stench of the monster. Her body grew limb with fear and so she tried to concentrate on the one thing that had given her solace in her long life. Even though the Emerald nightmare had corrupted her mind and body she still felt the urge to try and delve into the dream.

Even if the dark had come to take her away, she wanted to spend her last moments in the embrace of the dream she had not dared to return to. She had retired in self imposed exile, in the hopes that maybe someday she could pass away hidden amongst mortals. The shame she felt when confronted with one of her own kind was unbearable. For the same reason she had sought out help to end the last remnants of the Nightmare Dragons. To end Taerar. But fate would have her murdered instead. While the mad dragon searched for her in the darkness, she concentrated, to feel that familiar wave and ensuing weightlessness, as though she was carried by some great, but gentle wave. Away from reality through the lands of sleep into the dream.

Roth once more beheld the vision he witnessed after the firelands.

_The night was dark, but the forest was bright. It was alive. At least it had been for as far as Roth could discern. With every step he took deeper through bush and roots he noticed barren spots, free of life and tainted._

_Then he saw her._

_A slender figure, undoubtedly female sat at a small pond._

_Roth could not see her clearly because she was half hidden behind a tall tree, but he made out golden ornaments on her robe. The robe itself bore several shades of green and was wrapped around her body tightly. Her head hang low over the water surface and Roth noted a band covering her eyes._

_He approached carefully not wanting to alert her._

_A Tall figure stepped into view, until then hidden behind the tree from Roth's eyes._

_The figure had an imposing male physique, with broad shoulders and long hair._

_Roth stopped and noticed two bodies lying on the ground right next to the two._

_All four of them, both dead and alive were elves._

_The woman reached into the water, while the man behind her placed his hands around her neck._

_She pulled something from the deeps, another corpse, holding his face just above the water surface, the rest still submerged. Was she crying? Roth was not sure what to make of it, but he was sure the third corpse was not elven, in fact it looked human to him. Then water splashed violently and the human corpse grabbed the Elf holding the woman in a stranglehold. He freed her from his grasp and then turned to Roth._

_Roth Immediately recognized him._

It was himself.

_Feralas _

The forest was still once again. Ysondre felt the relief of the dream washing over her, cleansing her of fear. She knew Taerar would discover her body any second now, but at least she would not see, would not feel his fangs dig into her flesh and eviscerate her body. No, the forest was quite once more. There was nothing but tranquility in these primal, ethereal woods. And yet Ysondre felt something watching her. Could the abomination have realized what she had done, and instead of ending her, followed her into the dream to taunt and torment her? But she felt there was more to the lurking shadow between the trees. A glimmer of independent thought, shone through the darkness, she perceived, despite her ruined eyes. Ysondre was terrified. What she beheld was so dark, so undeniably malignant and corrupted; she was repulsed with all her being.

"If you hesitate here, it is the end." Ysondre raised her head startled. In the physical realm she moved merely by sound for in her madness she had lost the light of her eyes, but in the dream you did not need eyes to see or ears to hear. A human boy stood before her, barely a man. He appeared naked, but quickly a black haze obscured his skin. As though donning a cloak of dark he stood before her. He reached for her, offering his open palm. "If you want to live, I will save you" He whispered to her. The green Dragoness hesitated for a long moment. Then she reached out.

_Mannorocs coven_

Ysondre stood stunned before the demonic giant. The creature was invisible to the naked eye, enveloped in powerful magic, shielding it from outside influence. Said magic emanated from a peculiar object hiding away in its grasp. _The glaive! _She thought. She approached the sleeping demon carefully. Roth had assured her it was harmless; without a soul unable to act independently. When she was just an arm length away from Kazzak's body, she reached out slowly. His skin was freezing cold when she touched it, as though the creature was dead. Ysondre breathed in deeply while concentrating on the tendrils of the emerald dream around her. Once she had access Roth was once again by her side in his dark ethereal form. He in turn reached out to her, establishing a connection to the physical realm, to Kazzak through her.

…

Wrathion had not talked for a long time, lost in his scheming. Lavina hardly cared for the meagre dragon. Both of them were following the illusive Roy as he stumbled confused and helpless through Stormwinds streets, unnoticed by anyone. Wrathion suddenly broke the silence, wondering aloud why no one reacted to the wounded disoriented boy. They pursued him to his home where they watched him rage madly at what had just transpired. Lavina watched him demolish his home and scream with anger, desperation and sadness. When his anger had expired, his desperation turned into fatigue and his sadness turned to apathy something changed. His demeanour was no longer that of a victim. She watched him set fire to the only thing remaining of his mother, the place he had called home all his life. There where again those dead eyes of his, that he had when he killed Derrick with the flick of a finger. Those mad empty, bottomless orbs, which did not see anything but violence, cruelty and betrayal. Completely blind to beauty, trust and love. The eyes of someone who was no longer alive, but cursed to walk the earth. The eyes that had bored into her just moments before she had been mortally wounded, so different to the eyes that had watched her die.

And he smiled.


	30. Chapter 30

**Finally! Merry Christmas with this last chapter and thanks for reading!**

XXXXXXX

Roth could feel he was close. After Ysondre had agreed to take his help, he had regained a connection to his world. The Glaive made access to the Emerald dream easy enough. Power over the dream meant power over the real world. His Fathers had realized that and planted the nightmare eons ago. Roth took hold of Kazzak's mind and ordered him to use the glaive.

Ysondre watched with astonishment as the glaive started to emit a blinding blue light, then the hulking demon disappeared and she was alone. She could no longer feel the ethereal presence of the god who had saved her. The task he had given her was complete, now she was free.

_Northrend_

Kazzak began to draw a circle into the snow with the glaive. He edged intricate runes along the outer rim with extreme delicacy. When he was finished, he stepped into the midst of the enormous circle and held the glaive high above his head. When the weapon started to illuminate the demon with amber light, he jabbed its blade into his abdomen and started to gut himself. His blood poured onto the snow, creating little rivers of hot red seeping through the snow. The runes filled with blood while Kazzak collapsed embracing the glowing weapon he had used to kill himself with. The runes started to glow a bright red and then slowly fed of the glaives amber blazing light.

The night was serene and the air was still, but deep beneath the surface of physical reality an entity churned through the very fabric of space-time itself. A god broke through one barrier after another to finally arrive at his desired destination. When his work was done the boundaries of reality shattered and opened a crack, situated right between two places in the multiverse. He traversed what was merely a step now, but had been a distance immeasurable, or more precisely something, that had not even been a matter of spatial length before. The night was dark, but serene no more when he stepped back into a world he had told himself for three years he had no real stake in anymore. Roth's auras permeated the air and bend his surroundings to his will. He felt the connection this place had to the past and to the future. The air was cold and Icecrown citadel lay in eerie silence. Icecrown was a prison for the ever-dormant dead under the new Lich Kings watch. Roth felt the presence of the citadel, hewn from saronite, but its master's motives remained opaque to him. Bolvar did not concern himself with the mortal world anymore it seemed. Roth was not able to discern whether the Lich King even realised the turmoil that wrought so much destruction just a few miles in the distance. The tendrils of the old gods reached from deep within the world into the very heart of Dragonblight. Roth wondered if his fathers had contained Bolvar and let him dream peacefully in some fantasy. All Roth knew was that Bolvar seemed content to bind the undead to him and to stand Guard against them. Forever.

The three years Roth had spent building his character of cruel indifference, this mask of evil seemed so distant now. Was he sane again? Was there no anger in him anymore? He felt a sullen melancholy take a hold of him. But there was a spark of malevolence still shining in him. All the worlds, all the victories and terrible vengeance he had conceived in his mad dreams brought about by dejected fury were no longer a mere fantasy a myth to keep his heavy spirit linger on with purpose. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Finally it was upon him. This final act would be his forever. He had long since gambled and lost all he could stake on one last chance, one last dance, one last-ditch effort to win. His very being remained and would be his coin. The enemy was clear to see now, not some ancient council of elder Gods malcontent in their eternal defeat, but himself he would seek out in the field. Rôth's cards were on the table, but Roth had shuffled the deck and drawn a hand with which he just might win.

_Dragonblight_

The corpses of dragons littered the ground outside of Wyrmrest temple. Deathwings forces had taken the structure in a flash, aided by a ground assault of faceless that had numbered in the thousands. A frontal Attack on the temple by foot was nearly impossible. But through a coordinated effort of black and twilight dragons the other dragonflights were too occupied to muster a proper bombardment from above. Deathwing flew large circles around the temple. He had merely a dozen of black dragons left. The brunt of his forces was constituted by the latest clutch of artificially aged twilight dragons. Apart from them he had little left. Even Chromatus was defeated, leaving him with hardly any weapons to utilize. His gamble for control of the temple was a desperate one. He saw one of the defending red drakes try to break through his forces assault by flying higher than the rest. He watched her quickly gaining height and steading her course. She did no longer need to watch out for a surprise attack this far up, the fight was now far below her. She circled back and seemed to search for a target she could take by surprise. While she still debated the easiest prey a huge shadow sailed down above her. She noticed the mighty leviathan only when he made a last second adjustment to his flight path with one powerful beat of his huge wings. She tried to evade, but it was to late. Deathwing swallowed the little drake whole. When he opened his massive Jaws again, the creature tumbled mangled and broken from his maw and plunged down to join the other fallen dragons.

Varian had brought his most elite fighters to Northrend. SI:7 had gathered intelligence stating the Qiraji moving north, as well as increased sightings of Twilight Cultists in Dragonblight. It was obvious where the Qiraji were headed; after all Roth's hatred for the Cult had been so great he personally showed himself in Stormwind just to proclaim it. Varian did not believe for a second, that a show of power had been Roth's true aim. Shaw had informed him of Intruders all over the city, the disappearance of vital documents and other suspicious activity, the very second Roth set foot into his keep. They had never determined who had been responsible or what they had been after, but Varian had been wary ever since. Now he was here to see to it that neither Deathwing nor Roth would cause anymore harm. Varian had two of his Gunships launch a counteroffensive against the attacking dragons from Wintergarde to the east, forcing the dragons to fight on two fronts. They were protected by three squadrons of dwarven planes lent to him by the council of three Hammers after Mekkatorque had convinced them of the danger they were all in if Northrend was left to the enemy. Apart from them, Varian was left with his own men and women and a number of volunteers. He ordered them to win back ground against the faceless as fast as prudence and their swords would allow.

Rôth had arrived with almost a hundred ships in Dragonblight from the south. He led _his_ qiraji along the path of the Titans to engage Deathwings forces. These insects his other self had enslaved proved extremely resourceful. They easily dispatched the old gods ground troops. They were completely under his control. Roth had bred them to be utterly loyal to him. Rôth had to do nothing more than to give one of the more intelligent Qiraji an order and the word would spread among them like wild fire. In battle they were simply magnificent to be hold. What they lacked in overall strategy they easily compensated with sheer numbers, coupled with relentless cunning for exploiting weaknesses in the enemies front lines. The humongous insects swept over Dragonblight like a plaque. Rôth let them destroy whatever came their way and proceeded instead to visit his arcane machine, hovering above it all, just a few hundred-arm lengths from the temple to the east.

Lavina and Wrathion froze. Eyes, far too many to count, focused their unblinking, red dead stare on them. They did not know what had happened to him, but he was there again. Wrathion turned around startled. Lavina eyed him suspiciously and then noticed a hand on his shoulder. Roth stepped slowly out of the darkness. He did not look at them. Before Wrathion could regain his usual presumptuous nature Roth threw him to the side. The Dragon did not topple and fall over however; instead he vanished into the dark Roth had come from. Lavina looked him over. Physically he seemed the same he had been just before her life had ended. When their eyes met, she held his gaze. The air was heavy with unasked questions both had carried for years. But neither would indulge the other nor indulge themselves. She broke the silence first. "Where did you send him?" "Does it matter?" He asked, his eyes indifferent, no curiosity behind his words. They did not speak for a long while after that. Finally he broke their stalemate. Roth reached for her but stopped. A sudden realization lit up his gaze. Then he narrowed his eyes. "What a joke" He hissed. He waved his hand and they disappeared.

_Dragonblight_

"Damned Inscets… Bartlett! Get the Skybreaker out of here for now and focus fire on the ground, we'll take care of the air!" Varian was furious. His plan had been to help the Reds regain control of the Temple, before focusing their fire to make short work of the Faceless Ground forces. Splitting his air forces in two would make an already precarious battle even more dangerous. Impatiently the seasoned warrior retracted his blade from the corpse of one of Deathwing's Twilight Dragons, which had made their way on deck of the Skyfire. They had just recently detected the enormous swarm of Silithid on the ground. They had been to occupied with fending for their lives, to pay any close attention to the massive wave of Insects that had made its way across the southern wastes. But now the Insectoids had clashed with the faceless below and started to gut their fleshy bodies. Varian had watched in horror as they devoured not only the faceless, but injured dragons that had fallen, they feasted on everything. He had to assume the same would be true for any of his ships crew should they be forced to land. Roth had finally revealed his true colours in Varians eyes.

Roth's magic brought him and Lavina to Wyrmrest. The battle between dragons, faceless and Silithid was well underway. He saw his own creatures besieging the Temple. Rôth held control over them now. There was nothing to be done. The silithid were fresh-hatched ones, kept under control through the Qiraji priests magic. He could not sustain control over this many efficiently on his own. He needed to destroy Rôth and takes his own place again quickly. His bolstered powers made it easy enough to locate the other god. "What is going on?" Roth ignored Lavina's inquiry, and instead conjured up purple lighting that hit the Temple near the top. "What are you doing!" He had missed. Roth had been sure the shadow he had felt was his other self. What ever it was, it was gone now. Before Lavina was able to ask another question Roth was going to ignore, a wave of shadowflame exploded right above them and washed harmlessly to the ground without touching them.

Deathwing flew high above; keeping a stern lookout for the elusive creature that had destroyed the bastion of Twilight, the Firelands and just recently executed his own son with its arcane weapon. He knew that he was the son of the old gods, but he was a traitor. His masters told him so. Suddenly dark lightning struck the temple. Deathwing lowered his gaze to locate its source and there in the snow stood a lone figure clad in black. They told him it was that creature that vermin he had to exterminate. He dove down and released a massive ball of shadowflame from above. His aim was true, but it had done little. The figure had somehow shielded itself from his attack.

Roth watched as the mighty black leviathan circled around him after his failed attempt to kill him. "Follow me bastard of the old gods" The dragon roared as he abandoned the idea of trying again to burn his adversary and instead headed for the Temple and disappeared. Roth quickly followed. Deathwing had abandoned his Dragon form and lurked between the pillars of the Great Temple. They were nearly at the top; Roth closed the distance between them slowly. He could not see him, but he did not need to. "I am not sure what is more pathetic, the fact that someone who fancied himself _death incarnate_ is hiding from me, or that you think it will actually do you any good." Roth's voice reverberated in the mighty leviathans mind. "Found you".

Roth had cornered the Dragon against one of the great Pillars that supported the floor above their heads. But Deathwing was not alone, a small elven woman tried to fight her way from his iron grip. Roth's eyes narrowed when he exchanged glances with the hostage. "We found her sneaking about in Ulduar, the masters alerted me to her presence." Deathwing groped Saxia affectionately, but there was little she could do to resist, besides turning her head away in disgust. "She didn't tell us what you were after, how loyal" Deathwing snarled self-satisfied, "We found nothing of interest on her though. Apart from cheap jewellery." Deathwing pushed a small orb in Saxia's cleavage. "Keep it" He laughed. Roth followed the movement closely. Saxia's eyes were pleading with Roth; she had tried to carry out his orders. Roth glared at the both of them. Deathwing enjoyed the obvious displeasure he was causing the god before him. Slowly a small smile started to tug at the corner of Roth's mouth.

„I never needed Omega in the first place. The old gods have no use for it, which removes any danger from them using it. In fact they fear that it can summon the titans. I have no use for it either; a blank slate makes everything that happened until now _meaningless_. It makes it all nothing more than a game, with nothing at stake, nothing to win or lose. I for one do not play games for their own sake. He raised his open hand and closed it dramatically.

Deathwing and Saxia fell to their knees, a sudden weakness coming over both. „What is this trickery, black magic…?" Deathwing hissed shaking in pain.

She looked so weak. And he was responsible. He had sent her to the continent of death with a lie. Roth reminisced about how he had first met her. A pragmatic drake she had been. She was so charming. He had looked at her to understand the mind-set of another creature distant to the short lifespans of mortals. He wanted to understand what drove them. It was something he did no longer comprehend. It was something elusive he had forgotten a long time ago.

"Do you really think I needed the help of a black dragon Saxia?" Roth's voice was almost mocking. She gasped, her lungs rapidly inflating despite the immense pain spreading throughout her entire body. "I never needed the information you got for me by spying on your own kin. All I needed for you was to get in contact with as many black and twilight dragons as possible." Saxia's mind was racing; she could not comprehend what was happening, what was he talking about? "What did you do to me!" She screamed. Roth made a gesture, showing part of his arm just behind his hand. "Those Tattoos you have were etched with my blood, they augmented your powers, but they also acted as a gateway for me to keep an eye on you and more importantly, to use you as a host for a very special sickness I created. I used you to infect every Dragon you came in contact with". Saxia's face contorted with a mixture of pain and anger, but before she could curse at Roth he raised his arm and blasted Saxia with a bolt of dark energy. Her body was flayed instantly, evaporating into thin air before Deathwings astonished eyes. If the Sickness had not been eating away at him he might have congratulated Roth on his deception with twisted sarcasm. The remaining black dragon tried to gather his strength.

"You are proud of your title are you not dragon? The title you _earned _when you gave in to the dark gods that sleep beneath the very earth you were given dominion over. Mortals call you the Destroyer, Blackwing, the Aspect of Death. You revelled in their fear when you realized what power you wielded over them. But you are not Death. You are hardly more than a glorified lizard to my kind when we compare strength. All you pride yourself on is power, it validates you, defines you. There is no more to you than that. That is why I look down on you, because before me your strength means nothing. You can slaughter thousands and yet they remain in the hearts and memories of their families and friends. But when you die nothing will remain of you. Death is a river and I am a flood, eating away on the shores of life bit-by-bit, unfeeling and unending." Once more Roth clenched his fist, making the great Aspect writhe in agony. Roth charged him and cut open his chest. Weakened Deathwing fled, transforming into his dragon form and headed for the horizon in defeat.

Before Roth could give chase to finish him off, a voice called out to him. It was his own voice.

„Let the mortal races take care of him."

_Wyrmrest Temple_

Thrall unleashed the Demon Souls immense power upon its creator. Deathwing roared, shaking the very battlefield beneath the shadow of Wyrmrest Temple when a ray of bright light burned through his body. It was up to the Alliance and Horde now to chase down the immense Leviathan. Using the artefact had taken every ounce of strength the Shaman could muster. He closed his eyes satisfied as two Gunships broke away from the battle and commenced their hunt for the Aspect of Death.

Roth looked down, from the top of the great temple, exemplar to the great dragonflights. He saw the turmoil in the snow. The disgusting manifestations of the old ones, desecrating the ground next to craters wrought by magic, fire and explosives. He could see metal shells burning in the snow. There were bodies as far as he could see. Mortals were scattered all around, fragile and dying. This was the side effect of his actions. It did not reach him, move him like it should. He saw the black dragons flaying and dying because of his little scheme.

He saw the wings of death strain hard to escape this ancient tomb.

Deathwing was wounded and sick. If Roth had not indulged in his own arrogance he would have managed to kill him before he fled. Roth turned around to face his twin. They were virtually identical. "Foolish don't you think?" Rôth inquired casually while slowly closing the distance between them. "Just look at them out there go at it. They rush to their deaths so readily unaware that death is a gift, always given, never denied."

"It's because they know every living creature has a death sentence over their heads as long as the hour of twilight is not averted" Roth commented, while observing his grinning mirror image approach him. Rôth stopped suddenly. "If I did not know any better I would be hard pressed to assume, based on these words, that you actually care about these creatures. Does their bravery impress you, how they march to honourable defeat in face of unbeatable odds?" Rôth asked curiously. "But you _do_ know better don't you? They are hardly more than persistent vermin, but they can be quite resourceful. They are the same as the dragons. But they remain pawns all the same." Roth explained bored.

Rôth raised an amused eyebrow at that. "You mean like that little dragoness you fooled into dooming her own flight, and then discarded her the second she was of no more use to you?" He did not expect an answer; he already knew it before he had asked. All he wanted to do was mock his brother and goad a reaction or emotion out of him. "You realize it don't you? On some level we truly are the same. I wonder where you end and I begin, if we fight, who wins and who loses and what difference it will make. It is only I that will win, I that will lose. I shall live and I shall die."

Roth looked at him now. Rôth interpreted his gaze as one of mild intrigue or was there something else in those icy orbs transfixed on him?

"But we're both neither alive, nor dead. We will never live and can never die." Roth spoke in that indifferent and distant voice of his, but Rôth knew there was more to it. He sensed a hint of melancholy in his voice. There was almost regret in those words.

"True" Rôth agreed "But only to a certain extent." "What then do you reckon is the whole truth?" Roth had asked with a first hint of honest curiosity in his voice.

"There are no such things as true absolutes not even for Old gods or Titans" Rôth explained. "Somewhere between the extremes of chaos and order, there is a balance. And that is war. War invites calamity, but it leads inevitably to peace. It is a cycle of endless repetition: either one side extinguishes the other and enjoys the sweet reprise of peace, or both sides fight until neither can, leading to a stalemate and by necessity also to peace. No mortal army can fight forever. But eventually a new enemy rises or the old one reawakens with new strength. That is what the mortal world is, a mere compromise between the true powers of the universe. Order and Chaos. Until the Titans came, the Old Gods battled each other in endless Global Warfare; they enslaved the elementals and usurped entire Empires, as tools and chess pieces. When one would fall, they'd simply create a new pawn to wage war with. It was the ultimate pointlessness, pure and utter chaos for no reason a sane mind could comprehend. Only when the Titans came, those who had taken it among themselves to usher in a new area of Order across the universe did something change. The Titans themselves created in their arrogance countless worlds, in their pathetic image of perfect harmony. They are Worlds like clockwork, everything is connected, and everything depends on each other and acts in unison. No desire to destroy, to conquer, but also no desire to create or to strive for something. They are hardly more than statements of power, an abstract that does not concern itself with a purpose other than to continue to work foreverin a display of perfection. After the Titans defeated the Old Gods, they implemented security measures and treated Azeroth like any of those pointless constructs they left hurdling through the great Dark until now. But while the Old Gods eternal chaos they had wrought for eons on Azeroth was broken, so was the Titans order they tried so feebly to impose upon that tainted world. Look what the Old Gods achieved. They managed to corrupt nearly every little construct or tool of control the Titans left in place: The earthen, the Watchers, The dragons and the Well of eternity. They have either destroyed or distorted every semblance of order the Titans created. That is what happens when two absolutes battle each other. None wins entirely, and none loses entirely. Just like us two." Rôth finished gesturing from himself to Roth almost reverently in that fake and mocking way he had mastered so perfectly. "What then" Roth demanded tiredly "Are you saying that we can kill each other or that we cannot?" Rôth looked no longer at Roth's face; instead he had focused his gaze on that reformed blade he was carrying. "I'm saying there is no such thing as an absolute and that rings true for creatures like us all the more, much more so than to those fleas outside, killing each other for their respective and equally hopeless and diminutive Kingdoms. Do you think you have it? The power to kill something, that is not even alive, to kill a true god? What did you have to pay for such a power? Are you sure its cost did not ruin you?" Again Rôth eyed that black blade in Roth's possession suspiciously. "What is there that I could give that I would miss?" Roth smiled at the notion "I am immortal, which means no tribute of life demanded from me is any loss at all. I have the mind of the old ones, resistant to magic, Illusion and horror. There is no sanity I can spare for anybody and mercy I discarded long ago. Innocence and purity of soul was taken from me and all advice I can give to anybody is to grant yourself a swift death before you see more of the comical wickedness of this world. So no I did not pay a dime and if by some chance I lost something, it's loss has not disheartened me. And if I should ever feel remiss in someway, I will always have the knowledge of your death to console me and sweeten my eternal dark days." When Roth had finished he graced his twin with another one of his fake smiles that never reached his eyes.

_Just before…_

The dark energies of Roth's magic enveloped Saxia's body in an instant. She could not even manage to cry out, before the air was burned from her lungs and her skin vanished in eldritch fire. She tried to breath and to her surprise air rushed into her lungs, allowing her to gasp in confusion. Where was she? Had Roth's spell failed? Or had her soul fallen prey to the void for trusting a dark god? Light was dim and the air dusty, Saxia could not make out any details. A hand took hold of her shoulder from behind. Startled Saxia closed her eyes and thrust her fist to where she reckoned her assailants face would be. A moan of pain and a rustle let her know her aim had been true. Sheepishly and with certain reluctance she opened one of her eyes. A boy with raven hair and chestnut skin blinked back at her in surprise, while holding his nose. "Well this could have gone better" He spoke befuddled while getting back to his feet. "I had hoped to leave a somewhat more dignified first impression of myself." Saxia's mind was trying to make sense of what was happening around her, but she was not doing a very good job at the moment, so instead of asking questions she just stared at the embarrassed boy before her who now shot her a glance of mild contemplation while sizing her up. As soon as he had regained his composure his face became serious and his gaze gained in focus. "We need to hurry, Roth said you would have the Omega code with you, we need it". "Who are _we_?" Saxia asked sceptically. "Everybody you know" Wrathion answered solemnly.

_Wyrmrest_

Roth's blade moved with lighting speed, but Rôth parried the blows with his bare hands easily, effectively deflecting any incoming attack of his twin. Roth wondered why Rôth even bothered with it. If his sword could not cut him in his mortal form why protect heart or throat? Maybe asking for a logical reason was foolish in itself. Whether or not there was even any logic to Rôth's action was unimportant, he seemed to enjoy their little meaningless skirmish anyway, his maniacal smile left little doubt in Roth's mind about that. Roth certainly would not complain, he needed all the time he could get before getting serious. Then again battling his twin this way made him feel uneasy, something he had not felt at their previous encounter. Lavina's death at Rôth's hand had made him numb to anything but rage. Roth had boiled with anger at the thought of his vengeance stolen by another. Any mortal would have thought Roth was a master swordsman, always outpacing his enemy, never flinching for his defence held no flaw any man could discern, and his attacks were swift and precise. But Roth had not the faintest idea of actual technique or how to read and surprise an enemy. He was a novice with the blade. His divine senses made him faster and stronger than any Soldier. Roth could read their minds and foresee strategy and aim, he could feel the practiced reflexes of a seasoned warrior and use it against him. If he was wounded then only because he wanted it that way, in fact not even then, any wound was merely superficial, there was nothing that could inflict damage on him the way Rôth could. But surely not even a god could kill another while in mortal disguise he reasoned. All things and all places had a soul, whether they are animals, trees, rocks or even the ocean. They were what made them weak and malleable, what made them corruptible. Even the mightiest of demon could be broken with a mere thought if applied at the right juncture, the right crossing of memories in its mind. But Rôth was like a golem, unreadable and sterile. But even that comparison falls flat, even a golem has a mind, after all most of the mortal races had been living stone and steel once. Rôth was more like a black shadow, without any tangible shape or form: if you cast a light on it to see it for what it really was, it would vanish only to return once darkness held sway again. He was ethereal and incomprehensible.

Shadow energies clashed violently between them, destroying pillar after pillar. Roth let his eldritch senses take over. He knew he could not rely on his eyes alone if he wanted to outpace his brother. He felt rather than saw Rôth's next attack and stopped thinking about how to counter it. Deep within him were ingrained past, present and future. He could feel his blade develop a life of its own and move without his command. The air rang with the sound of bone cracking and the splatter of liquid on marble floor. Roth could feel himself get sprayed in huge quantities of a freezing cold slime. Slowly his eyes caught up with what had happened and he saw Rôth stunned, bleeding profusely from a vertical gash in his right shoulder. Rôth had tried to stab with his right hand, but his brother had been faster and landed a hit even before he could extend his arm to attack. Roth looked down and saw his arms getting covered in Rôth's black oozing blood. The amount was tremendous, despite its high viscosity. It seemed as though Rôth's body had a much bigger heart that was pumping a much greater quantity of blood through his veins than seemed possible for the human body. Roth remembered back when he had killed for the first time. Killing with a sword was nasty business, few would believe the force with which blood escaped its cavity in the human body once encouraged by a blade. Before Rôth could get his bearings, Roth freed his left hand from the hilt of his blade and catapulted Rôth across the room with a spell that exploded into black and violet flames once it had hurled its victim into one of the outer walls of Wyrmrest Temple. Before the dust cleared where the spell had impacted and shattered stone, an amorphous black cloud spewed forth from the haze and washed over the floor. From the ominous dark smoke tendrils of a sickly white with a hint of green rose and reached for Roth. "It seems reforming that blade wasn't a waste after all" Rôth's mocking voice echoed through the darkness, while Roth dodged tendril after tendril. "But I broke it _before_, I can break it _again_" Rôth threatened. Before Roth could retort, Wyrmrest seemed to bend onto itself and then bulge out, then red light blinded him. Wyrmrest Temple was torn apart violently in red fire. An immense blast wave flung Roth horizontally through the air. Suddenly he saw white snow beneath and blue sky above, obscured by smoke and dragons and death. Once he caught himself his involuntary flight stopped. He stood now mid-air and waited. Before him a mushroom cloud of grey and black rose into the air, while red lighting hunted across the sky. Roth did not want to transform yet. The location was bad, if they engaged each other here in a battle to the death, they'd get every soul here involved. He looked around to assess the situation, and found to his relieve the humans and dwarfs surviving their attempts at aiding the reds. They seemed to almost have reclaimed the sky for themselves once Deathwing left. The ground was a different matter all together. As far as he could see there were only insect bodies like an unrelenting tidal wave, raging across the snow. He could not help them: leaving Rôth unobserved would prove fatal in the long run. A flash of red lighting forced him to dodge and act. Roth could not come up with a solid plan to move the ensuing battle elsewhere, but there was a way to minimize damage. Evading a barrage of lighting, Roth darted to the earth. His body started to burn with black fire and scorched the land. On the ground he finished his transformation and grew immensely. His blade was like black lighting in his hands until it finally opted for a more tangible, more conventional form. Three rays of red shot forth from the amorphous black haze atop the ruins of Wyrmrest temple. Roth evaded quickly and watched as the ground underneath him was turned into a red hell of eldritch fire. He had no choice. Slowly he released the chains on the power within him, within the blade he held, within his mind. Roth felt that unmistakeable black urge rise, that feeling of empty need. It was a hollow hunger, that threatened to devour everything and yet still leave him starved, leave him wanting more. He felt its seducing tendrils grabble with his mind, envelope it and force it to the ground. Once again he saw her dead eyes and that hole in her chest, just before he cut her into pieces with one clean strike. He felt as though a thousand worms squirmed within him, as his shape changed and his body grew. His mind froze as his body was engulfed in black flame and his blade grew with him, reborn in a fire unseen. And in the distance she stood and watched him with those dead, empty eyes.

"Retreat!" Wrynns order was carried from soldier to soldier, from ship to plane. The Horde was retreating to the north. The alliance followed. The north was their best chance to use the mountain ridges as a shield against the ever-growing number of Silithid on the ground. They would wait until the creatures had made their way halfway up, then they could fire away and cause avalanches of snow and stone to mow down even the mightiest army. The other reason was to get away from the two monstrosities battling each other around the remnants of Wyrmrest temple. Their initial clash had destroyed a sizeable number of Silithid along with any delusion to intervene by the remaining gun ships.

Roth was gliding like a shadow over the ground, evading his brother's deadly rays while casting blue and violet orbs of destruction in retaliation. Rôth in his vast and majestically repugnant shape of maws and eyes did not move. He was blocking a sizeable portion of the sky with his body, much more than Roth could remember. He did not dare engage him in close combat already. Instead he satisfied himself by casting spell after spell and hurl it into the sky, but they did not connect. Somehow Rôth's body swallowed them up. Roth grew impatient, his attacks were useless and it unnerved him. Suddenly he sprang up into the sky, dashing towards the vast expanses of Rôth's formless body. He dodged a multitude of massive spiked tentacles, but just before he could cut into his brother, Rôth seemed to distort and vanish. Instead Roth beheld the enormous arcane device, still far above him, circulating menacingly until it suddenly discharged a ray of immense power upon him. Rôth had cast an Illusion, on it, making it invisible until now. He could not find his brother; he was hiding somehow outside of his reach. Arcane lighting struck down on Roth. With a wave of his blade he froze the torrent of magical energy, along with the device that had spawned it in time. The glaive he had merged with his own blood to create a new weapon worked flawlessly. He activated the power of the dream and broke the rest of his brother's illusion. Roth uncovered him just moments before his tentacles could engulf him. He dodged, but one of Rôth's spells caught and swallowed his body in a red explosion. Rôth was weaving another spell, but before he could finish, Roth escaped the explosion, as though it had not hit him at all and cut into one of Rôth's tentacles. The cut was not particular deep, and he retaliated quickly with several red rays, burning Roth's body and turning it into dust. Rôth expanded his senses, his brother was not so easily defeated, and instead he had tricked him with a mirage made from arcane magic. Once he found him, it was too late however. Roth had come too close and with a blade glowing in a torrent of violet and black eldritch magic cut into one of Rôth's eyes. Black ooze gushed from the blinded eye and the amorphous conglomeration of tentacles and maws that were Rôth squirmed in frantic agony. Roth cut again into his brother, as often as he was able before Rôth turned ethereal and formless and fled into the sky. Roth gave chase, augmenting his speed by manipulating time. Quickly he shot through the sky towards that translucent mass of tentacles. Roth's blade started to turn ethereal with shadow energy, to cut through Rôth's immaterial body. He was only seconds away from catching up to his brother, his blade ready when a spiral of chronomagic connected with his body, locking him in time. Roth's own command of time immediately started to negate the influence of the spell he was under, just enough to allow him to ascertain the identity of its caster. Murozond had joined the battle weaving a spiral like time vortex, to incapacitate Roth and keep him in place. While the infinite leviathan occupied Roth, the other god jumped at the opportunity for a counterattack. Rôth had turned into his tangible form again, weaving a number of spells to incinerate Roth. The red orbs of magic were quickly finished and rained down onto the black clad god. Instead of exploding on impact however, the orbs kept on falling, until they finally hit the ground, partly obliterating the remaining ruins of Wyrmrest Temple. Roth had given up on his material form, and instead darted upward toward his brother, once he had escaped Murozond's prison. Rôth tried to conserve his power, and cast a shield of arcane design to protect himself against the black blade. Astonished he watched his brother however turn sharp in the air, and instead head down towards the Master of the infinite Dragonflight. Murozond's breath blocked Roth's vision, but he disregarded it, and headed straight for it. Once again Immaterial, Roth broke through the barrier of sand and beheaded Murozond. Rôth eyed the headless dragon corpse and his disabled arcane device with unease. Both tools had been vital in his resounding victory against Roth in the skies above the Hillsbrad Mountains. Now his brother had suddenly gained a mastery of time unheard of. Rôth knew he was at a grave disadvantage now, after all Roth barely seemed fatigued. There was an easy way to turn this fight around however. Rôth focused his energies and wove a massive spell. Roth watched bewildered as his twin turned the spell against his own weapon and a ray of red magic impacted the time-frozen construct. Roth felt the strain on his powers immediately. Part of the spell was being incorporated into his time pocket, but it siphoned massive amounts of his strength to do so. Roth could not sustain this for more than a few moments, he had to cancel the active time field. Once the flow of time was restored, the machine shot of it's contained ray of arcane, obliterating both Agmar's Hammer and the Ruby Dragonshrine. The explosion spread for miles upon the icy wastes and turned them into rivers of boiling water. Arcane fire burned unendingly upon the ravaging waves of water and high above two gods clashed with brutal fieriness. Both were exhausted, exchanging mostly physical blows at this point. Blade and spiked tentacles clashed with savage ferocity while the two dark gods danced in the clouds.

Wrathion led Saxia outside into the light. They had been in the basement of a Tavern, where Wrathion had scratched a few symbols into the stone. "We're at Wintergarde Keep" he explained while nodding covertly to a man in white Robes to their right. He seemed to be the only one still here, the rest had been quickly sent at King Wrynns request to help for the battle at Wyrmrest Temple. "Do you have the Code?" Wrathion asked the dragoness tentatively. Without a word she presented him with a small orb, the colour of gilded steel. "Doesn't seem all that impressive for something that can destroy Azeroth" he commented disheartened. "It's a perfect sphere" She offered confidently. "So?" the black dragon prince shot back unconvinced. "Perfection is a powerful message".

Just for a moment, Roth's blade hesitated before striking down on his brother. He turned his head barely noticeable in the direction of Wintergarde Keep. Roth led Rôth slowly towards the Alliance outpost until finally the two gods ugly shapes cast equal hideous shapes over the deserted Necropolis still floating there. The sun had long since travelled over its highest point in the sky, in a few ours it would set in the west, below the ruins of Wyrmrest Temple. Roth's eyes quickly found two shapes he recognized in the Keep below. He felt the burning of his blood on Saxia's skin. But before he could retrieve the Omega Code he needed to incapacitate his twin. He raised his sword and watched in amazement as it brimmed with unbridled and unholy energies. His sword cut easily through his brother's defence and catapulted him with immense force to the ground. Rôth crashed into the mountains to the west of Wintergarde Keep, decimating the mountain peeks. His body slithered into the valley further west in an avalanche of snow and rock. Surprised Roth descended without a sound to inspect the damage he had caused more closely. Rôth lay broken before him with his tentacles writhing spastically in agony. Roth savoured the exquisite pain, the impeccable dominance he now wielded over his dark twin. Once more he felt that familiar tingling in his mind, the shuddering of his soul as their voices spoke to him. Endearingly they whispered to him like a Father who soothed his crying boy. Silent and compassionate resounded their voices in his head. They spoke softly and warm with bittersweet words of pride in light of his achievements. Their advice of what he should do now sounded wise and benevolent to his ears. **'Kill him now. It is what you wanted to do all along. You sought power when you kneeled paralyzed in defeat before him. To avenge yourself against him you became even more than you already had been.'** Their words rang true in his mind. They knew him best after all. Knew him well before he was born and watched him ever since he first opened his eyes. If he thought back on it, they had been the ones **who were always there**. They had always **watched over him from afar. He should kill Rôth as swiftly as possible and release them finally from their prisons deep beneath the earth.**

Roth raised his blade high in the air now, summoning what strength was left in that unholy weapon to deliver a deathblow to a god. Before he could swing his sword down however something hovered at the edge of his vision. He tried to turn his head, but could not. He was frozen, as though a giant invisible vice was holding him in its grasp. His body was not his own and before he could make sense of the situation a familiar scent registered in his mind. It was a flower. He could scarcely believe his senses. Out here in the white desert, were ice and snow ruled supreme all year long no plant life could exist. Yet here he spotted a fragrance. It smelled of magnolias. Roth felt a new warmth sweep over his body allowing him to move. His eyes widened when he spotted a figure standing beneath the massive puddles of blood. Her black curly hair was flowing in the cold winds, obscuring her face. Still Roy could see those piercing auburn eyes between her strands of hair, glaring imploringly up at him. If he killed his brother now, the Old Gods would win ownership over his soul forever.

"Saxia!" Roth's eldritch voice echoed over the vast icy planes with a slight break in his tone. After a few moments two black dragons flew over him. Dragon was perhaps to strong a word to use. One was hardly more than a whelp and the other was a drake not yet fully grown. Roth and Saxia locked gazes for a long time, until she let go of a small orb, hardly much bigger than a marble. The orb darted down until it made a sharp turn and landed in Roth's massive hand, where it vanished to the naked eye. Almost ceremonially the dark clad god raised his sword. It began to glow like a sun had suddenly erupted right underneath its obsidian black metal. "In the end we both could not break free. We remain slaves to our origin" Rôth whispered. "Don't worry, I'm going grant you freedom right now" Roth stated and plunged his blade deep into his brother. The blade seemed to absorb Rôth in a torrential vortex, until both disappeared and only a small yellowish portal remained. Only for a second did Roth watch through to another reality, where desolation and death reigned over an empty Azeroth. Suddenly a small light emerged from his hand in a flash of light. Just as quickly as it had appeared it speed into the veining portal. Shortly after the connection to another world was lost forever.

_On the other side…_

Rôth watched in contempt to his dark reflection across a mirror of time. He was too wounded to resist at this point. Then he saw a flash of light come through the portal and shoot up into the air. He summoned the last of his strength and aimed for the white orb speeding into sky. Rôth's spell sprang weakly from one of his many tentacles in pursuit of the glowing ball. His red ray of magic closed the distance fast… and missed. A few moments latter Rôth felt a massive tremor on the other side of the Globus. After just a few more minutes he could see a wall of bright white fire close in fast as it obliterated every inch of barren land between them.

_Dragonblight_

Roth felt a weight lift slowly from his shoulders. He turned and watched the massive Arcane construct still hovering in the skies above Dragonblight. Horde and Alliance were at a safe distance in the mountains to the north. He summoned the strength for one last spell and watched for a while as the violet ball of magic closed in on the rotating machine. When it hit, the device was ripped apart in a violent torrent of arcane energy and poisoned the Silithid below, who had survived the previous battle until now. When the last of Roth's strength left, his body shrank back to his human height. He donned his human guise again. Finally Roth let himself fall into the snow in exhaustion.

The sun had almost completely set under the horizon when Varian's Gunship reached the mountains casting Wintergarde in shadow. The human King could see two shapes fly away into the dark. He did not consider giving chase. They were fast and he had more important business with the lone figure sitting in the snow below him. The sky was filled with a beautiful violet and yellow hue, cast for miles on patches of cloud in the direction of the encroaching night sky. Stars blinked bravely in the east, where night already held sway. Varian Wrynn slipped down on a rope with two dozen of his most fierce warriors to seize the young man who slowly stood up to receive them. Wrynn remembered grey and white hair and the hard and cold face, which accompanied it.

In the distance silithid died from radiation poisoning. They squirmed and retched in agony while the clouds of toxic particles wafted over farther and farther over them. "You employ dangerous weapons. I thought the gnomes had learned their lesson." Roth grinned.

Varian ignored him."When you barged into my throne room you threatened that if anybody interfered with you or your army they would face dire consequences. You destroyed many of the Twilight cults bastions and allies and yet where ever you went the defenders of Azeroth fell in equal number… Malfurion and countless Kaldorei vanished in arcane fire just after you showed yourself is what I was told by Tyrande. A survivor saw everything. Do you deny that this is true?" Roth said nothing. "Blackrock Mountain was also destroyed by an arcane explosion". This was news to Roth, his brother must have snuffed out Nefarian and his machinations while he had been trapped on the desolate Azeroth. "Shortly before a massive battle had taken place in the hillsbrad foothills. Then you sent your armies to conquer Wyrmrest Temple and battle the dragons and servants of the Old gods already locked in combat there." Roth still refused to talk. "Then all this happens" Wrynn gestured to the massive destruction Roth and his brother had wrought in Dragonblight. "You battled an Old god didn't you?" Wrynn asked after waiting for Roth to answer. "You'll have time to come up with answers once we lock you up in Tol Barad." Three of Varians men closed in on Roth. "You think I battled a god and then would let myself be detained by mortals?" Roth sneered. "I believe you have lost whatever power you had otherwise you wouldn't have waited for hours right here in the cold." Varian shot back confidently. "You want answers? Fine human. I paid back a debt here. I had planned to stop the hour of twilight and then pronounce myself above even the Old Gods. A God King under whose vigilance the Old Ones could be contained forever as long as your lot served and worshipped me." Roth claimed. "You already had created creatures to do your bidding, why would you need our praise?" Wrynn asked patiently. "Insects make for poor followers" Roth offered with a sly smile "It is much more fun to be worshipped by the likes of you, proud and self-righteous but obedient in the face of overwhelming might." Wrynn glared defiantly before he spoke again: "We would never bow before someone like you. You are a crazed monster that grows slaves to fight and die for him, without a reward and without honour. You killed one of them in my throne room just to prove they are utterly devoted to you."

"To me you people seem like the crazy ones. After all it is your ilk that raises armies educated, trained and sacrificed by a system, predicated on nothing but, fake glory, false choice and pointless conquest. How is my approach any worse? I created a race of beings utterly depended on waging war, on having to destroy the enemy they were born to kill. " Roth retorted "I gave them a purpose when they were born and I saw to it they fulfilled it: to die in my service."

It was with conviction Varian spoke to the monster he saw before him:" We do not force our men and women to serve the whims of a tyrant; they choose to serve for the good of the people… out of their own free will."

"Free will" Roth laughed, "Does your insincerity not embarrass you King Varian? This so called freedom you invoke does not exist. Is it not the case that you glorify sacrifice, heroism and courage? You raise an entire population along such lines and call their choice free? They believe what they do is righteous and just, when in fact it merely serves the current monarch and the consolidation and expansion of his power. Is this how you justify indoctrinating children to yourself? All you do is satisfy a primitive need for security, you mortals are hardly ever more immoral and corrupt as when you act out of fear. The sheer conviction and gall with which you try to make out what I do is cruel and what you do just, disgusts me." Roth growled.

His gaze flickered to Lavina. "I saw the dark this world was headed to and endured it. What is it you think you can threaten me with?" He smiled manically to her, while addressing the King before him. 'I went willingly to my execution, I would not have it any other way.' He thought, but other words left his mouth, the words they needed to hear to drive a sword through his now merely mortal body. To scream in joy:' The son of the old gods is dead!'. "They say the warmth of a mother soothes any pain. I wouldn't know…but neither would Anduin would he?" Varians eyes snapped to attention and fixated in a dangerous glare on Roth's. "Little Anduin… having to grow up in a world without a mother. At least he always felt the affection and protection of his father. You always cared for him, right Varian? Except of course for the time you spent fighting in the dirt of an orcish arena, while your son was left defenceless to the whims of a black dragon. All alone he had to sit on the throne, trusting his father would not abandon him. Like he abandoned his wife." Varian was seething with anger "How dare you even suggest I –" "But it is the truth, King of Stormwind. Your wife died because of your incompetence: you employed every smith and mason in the land to resurrect Stormwind from the ashes, but you had the audacity not to spent a single penny as payment once your fathers City stood in new glory."

"The nobles did not agree to pay the promised amount, I was not involved directly." Varian whispered between clenched teeth. "And you lacked the courage and virtue to right this wrong despite your duty to your people once you had firm grip on the reigns of the Kingdom again. As a result Stormwind saved a fortune, and the lives of credulous and honest people were forever destroyed. Instead it was your wife who paid for your idleness in blood with her life. It is your fault Varian, you are incompetent as a Leader and incapable as a father. You do not even know or understand your own son." "I taught him to be a man, to stand up to injustice-" Varian tried to vindicate himself, to absolve him of this gnawing guilt and fear that overtook his very soul, but Roth would not allow it. "All he learned from you is constant neglect and failure!" Varian had no retort, no excuse. All he felt was a burning anger and the need, no the uncontrollable urge to silence this man before him, that would challenge the very man Varian believed himself to be. But before his hand could move to kill with a quick stroke his son's image flashed through his mind. This is not what he would want. Anduin would sue for peace, to forgive. Roth felt the anger subsiding within the scion of Goldshire and was bewildered. His provocations and subtle magic should have earned him a blade in his stomach and yet the man before him did not give in to his anger. But Roth was almost there, he just needed to push a little harder. "Poor Tiffin killed by a simple stray stone, thrown by a disgruntled citizen." Varian snapped to attention once more at the mention of his late wife's name. "But was it mere coincidence?" Roth taunted further. "What do you mean, speak!" The royal warrior ordered, his voice calm but his eyes betrayed his impatience.

"What if I told you your Wife's death was not just an accident" the young god spoke with serenity.

"Why would I believe a single word out of your filthy mouth, monster!" Varian erupted with anger.

"Believe what you want, but it is a fact that I am the son of entities so terrible, so old they hatched plans and orchestrated conspiracies for eons. Do you think the death of a queen would happen without their consent? Do you believe your fathers assassination was also mere chance, an unfortunate tragedy?" Varian did not move a muscle, even though every fibre of his being screamed to him, edged him on to kill this man this abomination before he could utter another word. "You still do not comprehend" Roth sighed "Fine then let me help you." Roth's voice was now little more than a hushed whisper, filled with malicious joy, gloating over the King standing in front of him. "_We _killed your father Varian and enabled the orcs to raze your City to the ground. It was _we _who planted Onyxia amidst your ranks and had her turn the nobles against each other. It was _we _who ordered her to abduct and hold you prisoner.

"It was _I _who killed your Wife"

Roth watched with tired satisfaction as the lie invaded Varians mind, overcame his reason and became truth. He saw the Kings eyes narrow and his grip tighten on his sword.

Roth turned to Lavina and saw her eyes fill with… pity? Was she even capable of feeling such an emotion? His body felt weak and the air was cold. He saw his skin crack, his form slowly crumbling under the strain of keeping up his physical appearance. Wrynn looked down on Roth, barely a man he saw in this creature before him. Shalamayne whizzed through the air and pierced Roth's dark heart. Black ooze touched the blade and for a moment Varian Wrynn felt a terror freezing his soul. He felt as though he had stabbed a figure of ice, a conglomeration of darkness that spilled hate, not blood over his weapon. The sphere of light blazing within Shalamayne flickered as though it feared the very flesh it was rending. Roth did not break eye contact with Lavina, while his body broke along the wound Varian had inflicted. Silent words passed between them. He could smell magnolias again_._ When his eyes lost their focus, Lavina's Illusion faded into nothing. Then he slowly fell over, shattered and turned to dust on the ground.


End file.
